White Noise
by Fistful of Moondust
Summary: Ginny Potter worked with her husband until the day her life changed forever. Now she's seeing things: images of her husband haunt her as does the image of the man now standing next to her. When her world falls apart, who will pick up the pieces?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I've written this purely for my own entertainment, as well as yours.

**  
White Noise**:  
_Prologue_

Dead silence.

"Merlin, no—"

"What's happened?"

It was quiet except for the shuffling of the morning paper.

A soft gasp of air was followed with an, "Oh shit."

"Buggery fuck!"

"Ron, don't swear—"

"You just did! Don't be such a nag, Hermione."

There was a soft sigh.

"Do you think it's true?" he asked quietly, looking down at the headlines, not quite believing them.

"Rita Skeeter didn't write it!" she snapped.

"Shit. Buggery fuck!"

His large hand hit the table and Hermione felt the mug in her hands tremble with the weight of his anger. She didn't chastise him for swearing this time.

Ron sat down heavily. He put his head in his hands. She watched his shoulders set in defiance. Then he shifted his body away from her and vomited.

She didn't rush over to him, didn't yell at him and didn't hurry to clean it up.

Hermione sank to her knees with a sob, clutching at her sides, holding herself with shaking arms. Ron came over to her then.

He let her lean into him and she sucked whatever strength he had from his body. He could feel his breaths rush out of his lungs and into hers; their bond was so strong. His hands moved down her back so that he could feel her spine soften as she molded herself to him for comfort.

Harry Potter was dead.

* * *

"There's his family!"

Ron sent the witch who had whispered the not-so-quiet comment and threatening glance and tightened his embrace around the two most important women in his life. Hermione pulled away from him in an attempt to be brave, but his sister cuddled closer to him, feeling like she was a twelve-year-old all over again.

"I feel like everyone is staring at us," Ginny whispered.

"That's because they are," Ron sneered. If it had been up to him they would have held a small ceremony.

He looked around the Great Hall and once again marveled at how big it was.

He wouldn't have held the funeral here if he had been in charge. Hogwarts was tainted enough as it was, without it also being the final place he would see his best friend, his best man and brother.

Ron refused to allow himself to look around. He was afraid he would lose it if he did. He didn't want to lose it, not when he was supposed to be the pillar of strength for his wife and sister.

"It's weird being back here," Ginny mused. She threw a sidelong glace at her brother. "I should have put my foot down and just have a small funeral. I think he would have preferred it," she mused as she halfheartedly looked around the full room.

Hermione looked past her husband and tried to fake a reassuring smile. "Your parents wanted to do this for him. The whole Wizarding world wanted this."

"Still…"

Ron squeezed his sister's shoulders and kissed the very top of her auburn hair.

Two witches were huddled in their way, talking quietly—but not quietly enough—about the dearly departed. "He was married, wasn't he? I wonder how his wife is doing?" the shorter, stouter one asked.

Ginny took a deep breath and Ron released her immediately. He would have already hexed them into the next century if he were the widow, but not his sister…no. She was much meaner than that.

She marched herself up to the hags and tapped their shoulders irritably.

They turned toward her, looking just as irritated as she was. "Can we help you?" the taller, slimmer one asked.

Her red head tipped to the side and she smiled bitterly at the two women, looking them both directly in the eye. "Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm Ginevra Potter, Harry Potter's widow. I just wanted to let you both know, since you seem so keen in knowing, that considering the circumstances, I'm doing fine."

Their jaws dropped to the floor.

Ron would have laughed under different circumstances. The looks on their faces were priceless. He would have felt sorry for them if they hadn't been such wenches; he knew what it was like to be caught in an awkward situation with your face burning up, after all.

"Don't laugh, Ronald," Hermione whispered sternly.

"It's kind of funny," he returned gently. _Harry would have laughed._

Hermione sighed and looked away from him. He could tell she was trying to hide her feelings from him. She was still trying to be strong when she couldn't be anymore, even after five years of marriage.

Ginny caught up with them without making a sound. Ron winked at her and smiled wanly as a blush crept along her cheekbones.

"You sit first," he motioned to her.

She obliged and moved to the third inmost seat. Ron watched her hands tremble slightly and cursed under his breath. Hermione didn't make note of it.

The whole Weasley family took up the front row of seats. Former classmates and teachers took up the next row of seats along with drinking buddies and coworkers. Everyone loved Harry, because he was _Harry_, not because he was "the Boy-Who-Lived."

Ron looked away from the front of the Great Hall, where many years ago he had listened relatively attentively as a First Year to Dumbledore's welcoming speech. Instead, he found himself looking out a great big window and remembering lazy days of playing chess with Harry in order to avoid homework and Hermione's obsessive wrath.

With a blank look, he saw their younger selves meandering down the path toward Hagrid's hut. They weren't totally sure if they were looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures with the great big, loving oaf.

A sharp elbow in his side brought him back to reality.

McGonagall had finished speaking and Ginny was standing up. He could see her mentally preparing to speak and silently gave her props for her courage. If Hermione ever died…Ron didn't know what he would do with himself. Surely he would die with her.

"Thank you all for coming to my husband's funeral," Ginny started in a barely trembling voice. He could see her knuckles whiten and could tell she was at her breaking point.

"I had never imagined this day would come. At least, I wouldn't have thought so for many, many years.

"Harry was a lot of things to a lot of people, magical and Muggle alike. To me, he began as my brother's best friend, an eventual crush. I never thought he could love me in return, nor did I know I would love him to begin with. But eventually, I did come to love him. I came to love him, not as my brother's best friend, but as my friend. Few people can be lucky enough to be in love with their best friend, with their confidante. I was."

She stepped away from the pedestal and took a long, long look at the sad, tear-streaked faces in front of her. "Thank you, Harry."


	2. The Building of Dangerous Liaisons

Chapter 1:  
_The Building of Dangerous Liaisons_

Ginny hesitated outside the tall grey building. For the first time she noticed how similar it was to the Muggle prison Harry had once shown her.

She hadn't been back here since his death. Ron had been the one to clean out her desk of any personal items she'd kept at her office. They were mementos of a happier life: her wedding, her brothers' weddings. There were pictures of nieces and nephews; there were pictures of faraway places that they'd always planned to vacation to.

Her brother was such a sweetheart, she thought to herself. It couldn't have been easy for him to see those pictures, to realize dreams lost. She'd have to thank him again someday; not today.

Thinking on all this she realized she wasn't so sure if she was ready to back to work. It had been six months since Harry's death. She still thought about him every half minute. As a caser she'd have to be completely clear headed. One mistake could ruin a person's life; she knew this from first hand experience.

She fidgeted with her wedding band, twisting it this way and that. She hoped she looked alright; or, at least, she hoped she looked better then she had yesterday morning. Ginny knew she was as pale as the first snow because she hadn't actually been outside for any length of time for a long time but she'd taken the time to dab a bit of bronzer on, not a lot, but just enough. She'd also pressed her old work robes last night and magically cut two inches off her deep red hair. She tried, although it was probably a pathetic attempt.

"Ginny?"

She jumped a little, then turned, surprised at the sound of her name. She hadn't heard anyone but her closest friend and family say her name as of late. Coming from anyone else, it sounded like a foreign, unknown word.

Dakotah Prior looked the same as she always had: the American witch was a svelte blonde with big, emerald colored eyes and red, red lips. Ginny had never minded her: she seemed smart enough but she had never really spoken to her either. Besides, Dakotah was in an in-field detective, not a caser.

Ginny tried giving out her best practiced smile but knew she failed miserably when Dakotah hesitated to come anywhere near her. Well, what was she supposed to do? Tell Dakotah she wouldn't break? She had to hide her snort, knowing that would never work.

"How are you? It's been a long time…" Dakotah mused carefully as she came up to Ginny. "Are you coming back, then?" she asked finally.

Ginny nodded timidly. "Yes, that's the plan anyway. Is my old office still available?"

"Actually, I'm in your office now," Dakotah answered sheepishly. She looked guilty, as if she had committed a crime or some other offense.

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. She wasn't going to let it bug her. Not right now when she had so many other things to be thinking of. It was just an office after all. Harry's office originally, and then theirs, but it was just an office.

"We didn't know if you were coming back…" she explained helplessly.

For a moment Ginny thought Dakotah might actually start to cry… "Really, Dakotah, don't worry about it. It's only an office, after all." She started to walk toward—what she hoped was—her employer.

Dakotah hurried to join her. "Nothing much has changed. Same people, really. You know Les; he never hires anyone new and never fires anyone old. He's a stale fellow, really," she mused quietly.

Her listener was only really half there. Instead she was focusing on the front doors. Right through them, she knew, would be Harry's picture sitting among rows and rows of pictures to honor the importance of lives already extinguished. Dumbledore's picture was there, as was Percy's. There were others, of course. Some of them Ginny recognized as witches and wizards she'd studied at Hogwarts, others she did not.

Dakotah took Ginny's hand within her own and squeezed. Ginny was suddenly very thankful she'd met her past coworker outside. It helped to not have to go inside alone.

She entered the Building of Dangerous Liaisons with the morning sun hot on her back. The same wand reader was still there, gleaming black and white or silver and gold depending one where you were standing. For her, it was silver and gold.

Ginny produced her personal signature charm, her wand making orange-ish yellow sparks, as always. The doors swung open with the same gusto they always had, mussing up Ginny's hair, as always.

The pictures were there, alright. Thankfully, she didn't see Harry's against the cold concrete walls. Maybe some other day she would search it out but for now, for now she just wanted everything to be back to some sort of normalcy. At least, as normal as life could be without Harry next to her.

She found her brother's picture automatically, though. She would never, ever forget where Percy's picture hung. She went to him automatically. Although he drove her nuts when he was alive and although he had disowned them for awhile he had come back but for such a short time only until Voldemort's Death Eaters had caught up to him. Having him back for so little a time was a blessing and a curse. They had all reconciled, she reminded herself, and that's what matters most.

Percy stared back at her wearing horn-rimmed glasses and running his hand repeatedly through his thick red hair. She didn't know when the picture had been taken but she knew he had been studying at the time. He always ran his hand through his hair when he was studying; it was a sort of nervous habit of his. She smiled thoughtfully, missing him a little bit.

"Do you think about him much?" Dakotah asked, looking at Percy's image.

Ginny shrugged. "No, not really. I did at first but…things just sort of changed after…well, after you know," Ginny finished quietly.

Dakotah nodded.

"Well," Ginny started, turning toward Dakotah, "I suppose that I should talk to Les. Let him know that I want to come back. It's time," she said with a conviction she wasn't quite sure she felt.

Dakotah nodded. "Good for you, Ginny. If you need me, you know where my office is."

Ginny smiled. "Thanks for everything."

* * *

Les's office was on the third floor. Ginny stared up the three flights and thought about changing her mind. She didn't really feel like walking up all those stairs. She would apparate except that she could hardly remember what his office looked like and for all she knew she might end up splicing herself mid-transport. She didn't really relish that thought.

She sighed as she knew that she would have to do this. She had to at least start paying her rent. She hadn't paid it for six months and truthfully, she didn't know how she had kept from being evicted.

It probably took her only a minute and a half to walk up the stairs, if that, but it seemed like she was walking to the other side of the moon. Not a good sign, she decided.

It turned out to be a good thing that she didn't apparate upstairs, Les's office had moved. It was at the top of the stairs now rather then at the end of the hall. She knocked lightly, knowing that oftentimes her boss napped at his desk. He didn't like being startled from sleep.

He would hate her job.

"Come in!"

His voice was as gruff as it as always been. Ginny found it somewhat reassuring: at least some things didn't change. She remembered the last time she'd seen him, at Harry's funeral. He had been wearing a suit and tie. They had all been wearing Muggle clothing because, although Harry had been one of the most powerful (and _good_) wizards of his time, he hadn't totally cut ties from his mother's heritage.

Unlike his usual outfit of a too baggy robe, Les had looked smart and official. There weren't any loose threads or food stains, which Ginny had appreciated.

"Good morning, Les!" she greeted more cheerily then she felt. Her smile was pasted on her lips and she imagined that she looked a bit more than a little tense.

Les's greenish blue eyes widened in surprise and his jaw dropped. She noted that he was a lot heavier than he had been: his jowls hung low and his cheeks were bright red. Ginny worried that he was breathing too heavily for hardly moving. At least, she knew he wasn't running marathons up and down the three flights of stairs.

It took some effort for him to stand up and when he finally did, he was wheezing and Ginny was afraid that he would pass out on her. She almost told him to sit back down but didn't want to offend him.

"Ginny Potter!" he cried out with a strained grin. "What can I do for you?" His voice was loud, jovial.

She smiled timidly. "Can I have my job back?"

His eyes widened again. "Dakotah was moved to your office," he warned her.

She gulped down spit and nerves. He was giving her her job back. She nodded. "Yes, I know. I've already had a run in with Dakotah. It's fine." And, because she was nervous and afraid of any awkward silences she continued on dumbly: "She's still the same person she was a long time ago, isn't she? I mean, she hasn't changed?"

While lumbering toward her, he shook his head. "Did you think she would?" He pet Ginny's shoulder with a beefy hand but somehow she was grateful that she was here. Once again, her mum and dad were right: it did feel good to be back at work.

"Of course you can have your job back," he said finally.

"Even though I've been gone so long?" she hesitated to ask this although she wanted to be sure that she wasn't being put on.

He shook his head with a confused look on his face. "Why would the length of your absence affect whether or not you can come back to work? You're a wonderful caser, Ginny, the best we've got. You can have your job back," he told her with an air of seriousness she hadn't known existed in his voice box.

She nodded and took his hand in her own so that she might shake it. "Thank you so much, Les!" Tears threatened to fill her eyes as gratitude welled up in her breast.

Les turned his back on her, waving his hand in order to shoo her out of his office. "Go on now, get out of here. You can have the ground floor corner office. Meg took maternity leave."

"Did I know she was pregnant?" Ginny asked herself out loud.

Les shrugged although his back was still turned toward her. "I don't know. If you did, I'm sure she won't be offended that you forgot. We know you've had a rough time of it all."

Ginny nodded. "Oh, OK…"

* * *

Ginny whispered "_Alohomora_!" as quietly as she could in the event any of her Muggle neighbors might hear her coming home. She knew for sure Janet would but only because Janet was the nosiest woman in the apartment. If she was a wish, Ginny would have recommended her to work for Rita Skeeter, she was that nosy. She would have been good at that job too.

She had to kick the door shut with her foot because her hands were full with groceries. Tonight would be the first time in a long time that she would have fresh vegetables. Her mother had brought groceries over to house once a week for the last six months but Ginny had never managed to cook or eat the vegetables in time. She found vegetables didn't stay fresh very long.

"Oomph!" she let out as she hefted the bag onto the kitchen counter then she methodically took each object out and put it in its proper place. Almost immediately someone was knocking on her door.

The groceries were left at the countertop, forgotten for the moment (and probably the evening, Ginny thought rather wistfully). "Yes?" she asked as she swung the door open, stubbing her toe on the corner of the door.

"Dammit!" she yelped, dropping to the floor to rub her sore toe.

Remembering she had just opened the door, Ginny looked up to see Dakotah standing there poised as ever as Ginny was groping her foot.

Dakotah smiled down at Ginny. "Evening, Ginny."

Ginny stood, smoothing out her work robes as she did so. "What can I do for you? I don't know that you've ever been to my flat…"

The blonde waved her hand in the air and took the liberty of breezing past Ginny. A plastic bag, like the ones at the muggle grocer, swung back and from the crook of her arm. This was not a good omen, in Ginny's eyes.

Ginny pointed at the bag, eyeing it suspiciously. "What's that?"

"My supplies," Dakotah answered. She was acting as if she walked into Ginny's flat carrying plastic muggle bags daily.

"What supplies?"

Dakotah shrugged. From behind her, Ginny watched her pale hands rummage through the bag warily. She wasn't sure what to think when Dakotah pulled out a pair of scissors, followed by a box with a picture of a blonde on the front.

"Do you mind, Gin? I think its time for a change. The muggle way," Dakotah announced, winking at her.

Ginny closed her eyes as she tried to think clearly. "What?" she asked impatiently, giving up on thinking clearly.

Her coworker came to stand next to her. With her eyes still closed, Ginny didn't know exactly what Dakotah was doing, aside from pulling at the ends of Ginny's hair and tsk-tsking impatiently.

"I think you'd look good with a layered hair cut. You know? Some layers in the front to frame your face? You have such a beautiful face, Ginny, you should show it off." Dakotah walked away from her and Ginny dared opening her eyes.

"And then," Dakotah started as she picked up the pictured box, "I thought I'd give you some nice blonde highlights. Nothing too drastic, of course," she assured Ginny hurriedly upon seeing the probably horrified look on Ginny's face.

"It's a new time in your life, Ginny. Time for a new look too."

_I'm not so sure about that_.

"Is that stuff even _safe_?" she asked, a bit curious as to what the contents in the box looked like.

Dakotah sighed and rolled her eyes. "Of course it is Ginny! Muggles do this all the time! Hell, my _mom_ is a Muggle! I've watched her do this my whole life! I know what I'm doing."

"Your mum is a Muggle?" Ginny asked, quizzically.

"Yep," Dakotah replied cheerily. "So see, Ginny? I know what I'm doing? And you'd look good with a more updated haircut."

Ginny looked past Dakotah and surveyed her reflection in the mirror above the davenport. Her hair _was _getting long. She knew it needed to be cut. In fact, if she remembered correctly, the day of Harry's death had been the day she was last going to trim it but obviously things came up.

She frowned, studying her hair a little more closely than surface wise. It _would_ _be_ nice to have a change. Her hair was dark red, it had been for a long time now, and it _would_ _be _nice to have highlights in it. She glanced at Dakotah. Her hair was up right now but Ginny could see that some chunks were lighter blonde than the rest. It looked good.

Her nod was a bit firmer than she was in her decision but Dakotah took it either way.

She waved her wand and conjured a chair out of Ginny's floor lamp. She pet the back of the wood chair. "Sit, relax. Tonight is about _you_."


	3. Remember All

Chapter 2:  
_Remember All_

"See now? You look amazing," Dakotah said as she continued fluffing Ginny's hair. Then she conjured a mirror out of a rag and held it up in front of Ginny.

Nervous, Ginny's eyes were closed and her foot was tapping the floor furiously. She felt Dakotah gently nudge her and she was slow to open her eyes. She realized soon that she had nothing to worry about. Dakotah was good.

Ginny was pleasantly surprised. Her hair was cut just below her shoulder with feather layers framing her face. She especially liked the blonde highlights, feeling as if she looked like she'd just gotten back from vacationing in Egypt.

Dakotah had gone so far as to even put make-up on her. Ginny especially liked the eye shadow, which was a pale green that shimmered and sparkled. It wasn't too flashy but just noticeable enough. Dakotah leaned down and rested her chin on Ginny's shoulder so that their faces were reflected in the mirror side by side. "You have a beautiful face. Great complexion," she added quietly, thoughtfully.

"Thank you."

Dakotah shrugged and smiled in a lopsided fashion. Her long fingers ran through Ginny's new hair absent mindedly. "I didn't say it as a compliment. I said it as a fact."

Ginny put her palm on the back of Dakotah's head, leaning back as she did so she could reach. "Thank you just the same."

Dakotah stood up, stretching her arms to the ceiling. Ginny watched her stretch, observing her thinness and the dangling sparkly thing hanging from her navel. Her blonde hair was still perfect looking; her eyes were dark as she smiled down at Ginny. For a moment, Ginny wasn't sure what Dakotah looked like more: a veela or a cat.

"How do you stay looking like that?" she asked suddenly.

Dakotah looked down at her, her arms still reaching as high as she could, and arched her right eyebrow. "Looking like what?" she asked, although she sounded like she knew exactly what Ginny was talking about.

"Like…like…like…" Ginny waved her hand in the air, motioning toward Dakotah's sylph like body. "Like you just stepped out of a Muggle magazine."

Dakotah shrugged. "I don't know. I've always looked like this."

Somehow Ginny knew she was telling the truth. "I've always only been plain. Red hair, freckles, only daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley. I've never had great grades, they've always been average. I married the boy I was expected to marry—

Ginny clapped her hands over her mouth, astonishment rounding her eyes out. "I didn't mean that nearly as bad as it came out. I loved Harry. I _still _love Harry."

"I knew what you meant," Dakotah said gently. She smiled softly so that she wouldn't offend Ginny. "No one will fault you for speaking of him in the past tense," she added carefully.

Ginny looked away quietly. She was embarrassed by Dakotah's apparent wisdom. "You don't know my brother Ron then, do you?" she said, half-jokingly but mostly serious beyond all normal comprehension.

Dakotah's smile widened slowly. "Don't worry about him. And don't be embarrassed by your feelings," she added knowingly. "I was married once, did you know that?" She didn't wait for Ginny's reply. "His name was Zacharia. He died before The War even started." She looked away, blinking rapidly. Ginny thought she saw a teary haze mud up Dakotah's eyes but it was gone so quickly…

"He was from North Dakota. We met by pure accident." She smiled, seeing the unknown Zacharia for the first time all over again.

"How did he die?" Ginny asked curiously.

Dakotah shrugged and it seemed to Ginny that she appeared weaker now than she had ever before. "I don't know," she answered quietly. "The doctors and healers never did quite figure it out. They thought it might have been a Muggle illness."

Ginny stayed silent, somehow knowing nothing she could say would affect Dakotah one way or another anymore.

"It's alright though," she said a little too brightly. "Shit happens."

* * *

Ginny could hear heavy footsteps making their way down to her office and she knew, without a doubt, that it was her boss. Les had managed to stop by at least once every day since Monday. It was Friday.

She sighed and whirled her chair around, launching herself into a standing position so that she might head off Les and get out of her office before he got in it. "Hi Les!" she said perkily, giving him her best smile. She didn't want him thinking she was holed up in her office to avoid people (which she was). Yesterday's confrontation with Les had been terrible: he'd asked her to tell him how she was doing.

She was doing fine, dammit. She was here, at work, wasn't she?

Les nodded. "Ginny. How are you today?"

For an instant she almost rolled her eyes. That is, until she told herself that he was just trying to be a friend. She'd rather he just try to be her boss. "I'm fine Les," she replied quietly. Maybe if she didn't talk a lot, he'd get the hint and realize she wanted to be left alone?

"Are you sure?" he asked, his beady eyes peering closer at her while he wrung his beefy hands seemingly nervous.

She nodded. "Yes, Les; I've told you the same thing for the last four days." She smiled gingerly. "Please, don't worry about me. I'm fine. If I have a problem I promise you I will come to you about it," she compromised with him, knowing that without such a promise she'd never not see him.

Les's eyebrows arched up and she could see that he was gauging how honest she was being with him.

"Please, Les," she quietly pled. "I promise," she repeated. Her tone was quiet but serious.

He nodded, relenting however unwilling to do so he actually was. "Fine," he said with a sigh, "but if you have any problems, or if there is anything I can do, please let me know right away."

"Of course," she replied sincerely. He really did mean well, she knew.

Les's smile was thin and Ginny noticed how pale he looked. She couldn't be sure if it was the pallor of his skin or the fluorescent lighting. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked timidly, unsure of how to broach the subject of his health. "You look pale."

He wiped his brow and Ginny watched, alarmed, as he started sweating from the small gesture. "I'm fine." He smiled a little brighter than before but Ginny still wasn't all that satisfied with his answer. "Oh, and to let you know," he began while putting his hand on her shoulder. It felt like a heavy weight on her. "You'll be getting a new partner."

She felt all the blood rush from her head and knew she had paled considerably. "When?"

"On Monday. He'll be here Monday. Is that alright with you? I don't know who they are sending yet but I'm sure he'll be nothing less than professional with you."

Ginny wasn't worried about professional though. No, she was more concerned with having to learn someone new; having to work with someone new. Getting to learn his strengths and weaknesses. Having to depend on someone.

"Alright," she said quietly and turned away.

She stayed in her office for the rest of the day, quietly going about her work and minding her own business. Ginny noted, with some dismay, that her mind was wandering more than she'd like. She'd been thinking about Harry a lot since Les mentioned a new partner for her.

She hadn't realized she'd be getting back to the physical aspect of casing so soon, although she wasn't all that surprised.

Harry had been a good partner to her, as well as husband. He'd always thought of her first (of course, he'd always thought of everyone else before himself) and she'd felt safe with him. When she was at a crime scene, because he was right there with her, she always knew that she'd be safe. With him next to her, she didn't have a worry in the world.

It had been a shock when she'd learnt of his death. She'd been home sick with a cold. Ginny was supposed to have been out there with him but she hadn't. To this day she felt guilt over his death. It was her fault he was dead. She hadn't been there to protect him like he always had been for her.

Ginny didn't realize she was crying until a single tear dropped to her hand. She looked down at the tear, sitting on her left hand and then looked to her wedding band. It was simple, plain and beautiful, like him. She smiled tenderly looking down at it. Gold and silver leaves intertwined together to wrap around her ring finger. She loved her ring. It reminded her of Harry, completely and thoroughly.

She pulled open the top drawer of her desk and started randomly searching through the files she'd kept stacked there since the day she'd started.

Some of the papers had since yellowed and crinkled, words that had once been neatly, carefully written but indistinguishable now. She hardly took the time to decipher the smudged letters before dropping them to the floor.

It wasn't until she found the photo that she realized she had been looking for it. She handled it with care, as if it was the most valuable thing in the world. She smiled, looking down at the picture and seeing a much younger Harry holding her.

Their smiles were bright and wide, sitting as close to the Whomping Willow as they could without being hurt. Ginny watched, amused, as the picture Harry turned to look at the tree and scowled, just a bit.

She smiled and traced their profiles.

For a time she only sat and watched them, smiling at Harry's youthful look and cringing at her outfit. She looked so young and immature. She _had_ been young, at only sixteen. Young and naïve; what she wouldn't give to be that young and naïve again.

The picture, she recalled foggily, had been taken by Ron sometime during their 7th year but not before the Final Battle had started.

She could still see Hermione laughing next to her brother, her arm wrapped around his waist as he kissed her in front of his sister and best friend. She was blushing by the time they'd ended their kiss and when they'd pulled away, they were both flushed from nerves and raw emotion.

Ginny had looked at Harry then, to see his reaction to his best friends' kiss, and found him watching her. He'd been looking at her like he _knew_ her, although they hadn't even really gone on a first date yet. They'd kissed but there hadn't yet been a first date.

It was then that she noticed someone else was in the picture, far, far back but still noticeable. She took a closer look, bringing the picture up so that it was almost touching her nose.

Squinting her eyes she still had trouble making out the person but it soon became clear who the lurking figure was in the background, somewhere long past the Whomping Willow.

Malfoy.

She dropped the photo like it was on fire and cursed. Why the _fuck_ did _he _have to be in _this _picture? It happened to be her favorite picture and now she found him in it?

Ginny put the picture back in the drawer, irritated that she'd never seen his shadowy figure before and even more irritated because despite that, she still loved the picture.

Watching her hands slide the photo back into its dark hiding space she realized that she was glad Ron had missed it. She liked the authenticity of their photoed selves and, later on she would come to wonder why, she was even kind of glad Malfoy was in it.

* * *

Later that night, long after the sun had set, Ginny was still awake. She loved being the last one to bed. Everything seemed safer late at night, to her. Or at least, she thought, you couldn't see what you were afraid of in the dark.

She had come to love the solitude the night offered. It wrapped her in a dark embrace.

By now, she'd agreed to have breakfast with Ron on Monday. He'd insisted that they meet; her entire family was worried about her. She knew he was probably telling the truth and she didn't want her family worried about her, although no matter what, they would. So, in order to get Ron to leave her alone and to ease all their minds, she'd go to breakfast with him. It wasn't something she was particularly looking forward to.

Picking up the antique brush her mother had given her on her wedding day, she looked in the mirror and studied herself. She looked like herself but an older version. She didn't look like the Ginny Harry had married so long ago. She looked older…more mature. She wasn't sure she liked that look.

Her brother would have a fit once he saw her hair. She could hear him now. _"What the _fuck _did you do to your hair, Ginny? Trying to change yourself already?" _Just thinking about her brother's reaction gave her a headache.

Maybe she could magick her hair back to normal. No, Dakotah would be offended and she rather liked it. She was used to offending Ron. It wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary.

She set the brush back on the vanity.

Ron was going to hate her hair.

She stood up and went over to the bed she had shared with Harry. She stared at the bed for a while, her eyes picking out the patterns of the quilt that she'd first dressed her bed with her wedding night.

Ginny thought back to the picture hidden away in back of her top desk drawer. Those were happy times even with Malfoy always skulking in the background.


	4. Malfoy

Chapter 3:  
_Malfoy_

Ginny had been getting up to go to work for a total of one glorious week. Currently, she was in the loo brushing out her hair. She liked it. She liked the blondish highlights and the new, more updated version of her former haircut; and the layers were nice, the way they framed her face.

It felt a hell of a lot better to be back, to be productive than she had thought it would, even though everyone had told her doing so would make her feel better. They were right and she wouldn't be afraid to admit that to Ron when she saw him in an hour. They planned to meet for breakfast this morning and the only thing Ginny was even a bit afraid of was Ron seeing her hair. If he even noticed (and he was quite daft, at that) he would have a fit.

They met for breakfast at a small diner two blocks from her flat called the Silver Spoon Diner. He was smiling, although it was a tight, controlled smile. She hadn't seen a smile of any wattage on Ron's face as of late; six months late.

His eyes looked electric. She smiled reassuringly at her older brother, wanting him to know that it was OK to smile. "Good morning, Ron," she said, giving him a hug, although she had to reach up on her very tiptoes to do so. He hugged her back and she sighed against him. His frame was solid and safe. He was her brother.

"Morning, sweetie," he said gently.

Ginny pulled away and looked up into the face of her apparently still concerned brother. "Is everything alright, Ronald?" she asked sternly, bracing herself for his answer.

Ron shrugged. "It's not me I'm worried about. I'm fine. How are _you_?" he asked pointedly. His eyebrows raised into his shaggy red bangs.

"How do you think I am, Ron? My husband is dead -" she felt bad when Ron flinched at the mention of his best friend - "I being trained into a job I already know how to do. And, I'm paying rent all by myself. I should post a "Flat Mate Wanted" sign, shouldn't I?"

"Don't joke. It's not all that funny," he grumbled. Suddenly, Ron found the table linen very interesting.

Her smile was wry. "I didn't mean it as a joke. I was serious. It's hard paying rent with only one income." _Just one of the little things I've come to learn_.

"We were all worried about you Gin. We hadn't heard from you in a week-"

"A whole week?" she interrupted, slapping her cheek gently, teasingly.

Ron glowered but didn't rise to the bait. "We were worried Gin. They all thought it was good for you to go back to work and to…move on with your life -"

Ginny held up her hand, effectively interrupting her brother. "What do you mean _they_? Didn't you want me to too?"

"Didn't I want you to what?"

"Get on with my life?"

Ron looked at his sister sheepishly. "That's not what I meant and you know it. We _all_ want you to move forward with your life…it's just hard, you know? Harry was my best friend, don't tell Hermione that, and I miss him terribly."

Ginny was impressed. He had never shared this much personal stuff with her. He'd never wanted to appear too emotional. Of course, Ron's definition of emotional differed from the world's definition, and so… "I haven't forgotten Harry, if that's what you're getting at, Ron. I miss him too. I mean, gods, he was my _husband_. It's not like you were married to him."

His cheeks reddened a little and she felt bad for her brother.

"I think Hermione knows Harry was your best friend," she said slowly, hoping to elicit a smile from him.

It worked. "I know she knows. Are you truly doing fine?" He peered at her with eyes that were bluer then she'd ever seen them.

"Please don't worry too much, Ron. I'm moving on. Really, tell Mum and Father that I am doing alright. I'm sorry that I didn't get in touch sooner, or at all, for that matter, I was busy, is all," she said. She wasn't going to tell him that she was feeling utterly lethargic and was having trouble falling asleep at night. Sometimes it felt worse then it did in the days and weeks right after Harry's death. She didn't understand it but she didn't want her family worrying about her anymore then they already were. She felt guilty enough as it was.

Ron sipped at his peppermint tea. Ginny reached across the round table and took his large hand in hers and squeezed it. "Now, tell me, how is Hermione doing?"

* * *

He hadn't even noticed her new hair. Oh well, she thought, next time she saw him he'd notice it and then he'd probably be upset that he _hadn't _noticed it at this morning's breakfast date. Serves him right, she thought.

The wind tugged at her auburn colored hair as she walked to entryway of her employer. It was good to be back, she thought. She didn't even mind her new office too much, although she hadn't been to her old one to see what Dakotah had done to it. There were too many memories in that office to go back right now.

There were more memories in the apartment they lived in but Ginny had come to terms with those long ago. They were easier to look over now. She didn't want to have to learn to ignore any more then she already had.

"Morning, Ginny!" Marlon Douglass called out to her.

Ginny liked Marlon. He was an official with the Ministry but he could oftentimes be found here. Ginny wasn't sure if it was more because his wife was a secretary or because his job required that he stay in communication with the employees at the Building of Dangerous Liaisons. Ginny suspected it was a little of both but either way, he was generally liked by all the employees.

Marlon spun on his heel. "Actually, Ginny, could I talk to you for a moment?"

She nodded and turned her body in his direction. "Sure, what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're adjusting well enough," he said thoughtfully. Somehow, coming from him, the question made her melt whereas that same question had pissed her off when it came from her brother.

Ginny nodded. "It's going well. I like being back. I like feeling useful again."

For a second, it looked as if Marlon was glaring at her but she soon realized it was at something behind her. She turned around to an empty hall behind her, with only the waving, winking and studying pictures of wizards and witches past. She still didn't know where Harry's was.

She didn't ask what, if anything, had been behind her.

He patted her shoulder and smiled. "Do good, Ginny," he wished.

She smiled and wished him well. Somewhere in their goodbyes she was also invited to dinner with him and his wife, Carolinia, to which she politely declined. "Maybe another time, though?" she suggested and he nodded in agreement, which she knew he would.

"It's cold in here," she muttered, rubbing her biceps. She reminded herself that she should really bring another layer tomorrow.

A tall man with long, white blonde hair was having a conversation with her boss, Les. Les was in charge of everything in the Liaisons building. The only thing he didn't have charge in was Ginny, really, and even she had to check in with him once in awhile.

Dakotah popped her head out of the ladies loo and grinned. She was back to not stepping around Ginny like she was a pile of broken glass someone had swept into the corner.

Les clapped the tall man on the back. Then he saw Ginny and smiled a mile wide. "Ginny, my girl! Come meet your new partner!"

Ginny walked toward the men with a growing sense of dread. She knew Les had been looking for a partner for her, she just didn't know that it would be so soon. She was rather liking being alone in that big office of hers with room to daydream and do work.

He turned and as she saw his profile… "Fuck," she sighed, connecting his profile with a foggy memory. One she would rather have forgotten, too.

"Malfoy…" his name came out more like a curse than anything.

He nodded at her, his ice grey ices leveling with her as if she was the scum of the earth. "Weasel," he breathed with enough enunciation that she didn't have to be right next to him to know what he called her.

Les clapped his hands together. "Oh good! You two already know each other! Ginny, why didn't you suggest Draco as your partner long ago? He's more than qualified for saving your neck! Wonderful!" he exclaimed happily, throwing his hands into the air.

"I've only been back a week," she muttered irritably. To Les, she smiled.

Les ruffled her hair like he was an old aunt and she wanted to smack him. He meant well but his…trust was completely misguided. "Be a good girl then and show him to your office," he told her, as if she didn't know that Malfoy didn't know where the office was. _I should just not show him. It's not like I want him in _my _office._

Ginny stared at Malfoy for a moment, considering him and studying him. He was tall and blonde and regal. She hadn't seen him for years, eight to be exact (she was now twenty-four) and she was more then a little miffed by him standing in front of her.

With his height, she noted, he loomed over her although he wasn't as tall, or broad, as Ron. Still, she could tell he'd be able to hold his own in a fight. His eyes were the same steely grey they had been in Hogwarts but somehow his face looked different. There were still all the familiar angles and lines that she had loathed years ago but he had changed somehow, subtly.

Malfoy appeared to be doing the same with her and she idly wondered what he saw. Did he see Ginny, Harry Potter's widow (and for that matter, did he even _know _she and Harry had married)? Did he see a fourteen year old girl who was still dirty enough to be teased? She didn't know. She couldn't possibly find out. She wasn't sure she wanted to know anyhow.

Her smile was bitter and she walked toward their office fast, almost hoping that she might lose him, although he would find their office soon enough. A couple of seconds to recover from the shock of him would have been nice.

She practically slammed the briefcase she'd been carrying on her desk and then spun around to face Malfoy. He was standing in the middle of the large corner office with shadows weaving about his face.

The shades were still drawn.

With a quick flick of the wrist she took care of that problem and all the darkness lifted. When the sun shone in, it was rather bright in the room, with light glinting off the white walls. She liked it.

Then she looked at Malfoy. He looked uncomfortable in the light. _Good_, she thought with a satisfied thrill running down her spine, _let him be uncomfortable. This is my realm anyways_.

"That's my desk, yours is there," she directed. Ginny pointed to his desk: big and brown and clean. Spotlessly clean, in fact.

"Really, Weasley? I hadn't realized," he replied dryly.

She glared at him. "Actually, it's _Potter_ now, thank you very much. And _where in the hell did you come from_?" she asked rudely. Ginny had been hoping to wait until he was more settled in before asking him what the hell he was doing here but to hell with it all. He was just _Malfoy_ after all: there was no need to be cordial to him.

"Potter, eh?" Malfoy turned his back on her and walked to what was now his desk. "And never mind where I was."

She snorted.

Without looking at her he asked her a simple question: "What?"

"No rude comments about me or my family? About my husband, perhaps?" she asked, peering at him like he was the devil incarnate.

He could feel her gaze burn through him. "No Weasel, not today."

Ginny slumped down on her chair. "Good, we shouldn't have any problems then."

* * *

She hated that man. Ginny would even go as far as to say that she loathed Draco Malfoy more so now than she did then. She rubbed her temples wearily. "I didn't even know that was possible!" she moaned to the walls of her flat.

Out of habit she reached for the blue and gold throw pillow that was kept lying around wherever it happened to be and snuggled up to it. She liked it because it held its warmth unlike everything else in her flat. Their flat.

She sighed sadly. Breakfast with Ron was wonderful as usual. She loved her brother dearly. He was funny, kind, protective and just overall a good person. Harry had been a little like Ron in that respect: he had been kind and protective, although he was more likely to be serious than Ron. They had balanced each other out well, she realized.

And now where was she? Now she was stuck with someone like Malfoy. After being lucky enough to have men in her life that cared about her, who loved her and who wanted her, he was made her partner. It felt more like she was being fed to the wolves.

She closed her eyes, allowing her senses to take over. She could feel the warmth of the pillow and she picked up on the different little patterns that were part of the pillow. Seams, her mother said, to help your heart heal.

The taste of pumpkin juice was still on her tongue from earlier. She heard her neighbor's grandfather clock chime through the wall, vibrating along the wood floor. And somewhere behind her closed eyelids she saw her husband laughing and then an unbidden figure came to the surface of memories: Malfoy, standing in the middle of her office. Only then did she realize he hadn't been watching her with malice but rather with some other unidentifiable emotion.

"I miss you Harry," she whispered.

_There was someone skimming her cheek with their hand. At first she was alarmed but soon realized she'd know that hand anywhere: Harry._

_"What is it?" she asked. Her voice sounded muffled, concerned. _

_Harry smiled. "It's nothing. You're beautiful."_

_She felt pink creep into her cheeks. "I love you Harry."_

_Then he vanished and she was standing in the dark. Somewhere. She put her hands flat out in front of her, palms out, trying to feel for a hard wall. Something, anything to let her know where she was._

_There seemed to be nothing._

_But then she heard it, a blood curdling scream that sent goose pimples racing up her arm and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Harry's green eyes flashed before her –_

"Harry!" Ginny yelled, effectively waking herself up. She was still on their davenport.

She clutched her sides in a desperate act to regain composure. She hadn't had one of those in ages; not since before Harry had died.

The tears started flowing then. She had no desire to find out the truth of what happened with her husband's death. The images had come, they had picked her, but that didn't mean she had to respond.

Ginny was ready to try to fall back asleep when the knock came at her door.

She stood wearily; attempting to smooth out her rumpled clothing, and went to answer it.


	5. A Beat in Time

Chapter 4: _A Beat in Time_

Ginny stumbled to the door fairly blindly, not having thought to turn on the living room's lights. It was just as well though, she wanted to be able to fall right back to sleep after sending away whoever the drunk was that mistakenly believed he locked himself out of his flat.

She immediately regretted her decision to fling open the door without so much as looking through the peep-hole.

The man standing in front of her barely seemed a man, although she could tell they were around the same age.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

There was something about the way he was standing, half in the shadows and half in the dim hall light, that made her heart skip a beat.

He stuck out his hand, holding something out to her. She stared first at his hand, which was paler than a ghost, and then at the thing he was holding. It was flopping about as if there was a breeze.

"Ain't you goin' to take it?" he asked in a bold accent.

She nodded and grabbed for it. He waited there while she ripped at it, tearing the envelope apart.

Ginny didn't know what she expected but whatever it was, this was not it.

_I'm sorry. I had to do it._

"Anythin' good?" he asked casually, even as he leaned over in an attempt to read it. She clutched it to her breast, refusing to allow him to read it.

"Where did you get this?" she demanded. Her whole body was shaking and suddenly she felt very unsafe. As if someone was watching her. Ginny forced herself to not look around the dark hall, instead focusing on the man in front of her.

"Who gave you this?" she repeated. She prayed she wouldn't start to cry. She was already feeling the tears prick at the back of her eyes.

He shrugged. "Don't know. They just gave it to me and told me to bring it to…" he peered around the open door, "to flat 3C. You _are _flat 3C, right?" he asked, arching his eyebrows in her direction.

She nodded, feeling numb as if she'd just heard of Harry's death…she looked back down at the letter.

"Listen, lady, I jus' moved here from Brooklyn. I needed the money, so I do what the guy asks, OK?" he told her rather defensively.

She nodded absently. _I'm sorry. I had to do it_.

When she looked up, the messenger was gone.

* * *

Ginny woke up the next morning, cuddling the letter at her chest. For a moment she was disoriented enough to not know where she was at. It took a minute of blinking for her to remember the night before and when she did, she rather wished she had something akin to twelve hour amnesia. She simply did not want to think on that damned letter.

She glanced down at the paper in her hands. She didn't have to open it to remember what it said: _I'm sorry_. _I had to do it._

Had to do what? Chills ran up and down her spine, just thinking about what the penmen was implying. Harry's death was an _accident_. The autopsy report had _proved_ that. Was this note implying something different?

The mantel clock started chiming then. She counted to nine and shot to her feet, dropping the letter to the floor in her haste. She was going to be late to work!

Oh, hell. She already was late to work.

Forgetting all about the letter, or at least pushing it to the back of her mind enough to get ready, she had yesterday's work robes pressed and her hair magicked into some semblance of a braid within fifteen minutes.

She quickly locked her apartment door behind her and flew down the steps.

Ginny caught a cab to the Liaisons Building. It would mean that she would be later still, rather but it was all for the best, she needed to time to figure out an excuse for her lateness.

Les wouldn't care and if he did, she knew that if she absolutely had to, she could take advantage of Les's kindness (which she could never allow herself to do). No, the excuse she needed was one for Malfoy.

She rubbed her temples wearily, already remembering the events of last night and letting them cloud her judgment. _I'm sorry_. _I had to do it_. She shoved the letter from her mind once again. She told herself she needed to focus on her excuse.

Maybe she could tell Draco…_Draco? _Maybe she could tell _Malfoy_ she was simply sickened by the thought of working with him today…? She chuckled. She couldn't tell him that but she needed something to placate him and keep him off of her. Something told her that a simple, "Sorry. I overslept," wouldn't cut it for him.

"Is here alright, Miss?" the cabbie asked her, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

Ginny looked out her window and noticed for the first time that it was gray and drizzly out; matching her mood quite well, she thought sardonically. It was a long walk to the front doors through the rain.

She nodded anyway, thinking of the way Harry embraced the rain.

"Yes, this is fine," she said briefly.

Ginny handed the man the Muggle money that was owed him and thanked him before trudging to the front door. Giving her signature flick of the wand she was promptly let in.

The hall was cleared of its usual hubbub and Ginny was embarrassed to hear how loud her heels clacked against the polished floor. A few curious coworkers poked their head out their doors; some of them smiled tightly at her while others gave her a disgusted look. As far as she was concerned, she couldn't have interrupted too serious of work, being that it wasn't quite ten in the morning.

She made it to her office, stopping outside the door. Malfoy was there, of course, seated in his chair. He was leaning back, with his hands locked at the back of his head. His eyes appeared to be closed. _If he's sleeping, he can't dare chastise me for being late!_

The second she turned the doorknob, he opened one of his eyes, looking to see who the intruder was.

A permanent scowl was on her face as she walked in. She didn't acknowledge him in the least.

"You're late," his icy voice finally cut into the air.

She shrugged and ripped open her top desk drawer at the same time. "Good observation," she answered irritably.

Ginny felt, rather then heard, him stand. The air in the room seemed to be drenched with tension and she could feel his presence looming over her. Well, he wasn't above trying to intimidate her, she thought huffily.

Then, suddenly, his mouth was moving next to her ear. "Why?" he asked quietly, lowly.

She jumped, and turned her head to look better at him, bumping noses with him in the process. Draco immediately straightened himself and Ginny stood up close to him to show him she wasn't intimidated. "That's none of your business now, is it?"

The stood silently facing off until a knock on their door broke their concentration. It was Les, followed by Dakotah. If either of them noticed the tension that Ginny felt she was drowning in, they didn't make mention of it.

Dakotah looked back and forth between the two partners, Ginny could sense her questions but before she was able to say anything, Les spoke up. "I wanted to let you two know, especially you Ginny, that I've got to be going away on business for the next week or so. Until I return, I've asked Dakotah to oversee the office."

Dakotah beamed at them.

Ginny felt the air leave her in one big whoosh!

Les put a beefy, round arm around Dakotah's shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. Ginny couldn't help but feel a bit jealous: she'd worked hard for a promotion of some sort only to have…to have what? To have Harry die; leaving her heart bleeding and wounded so that she couldn't get out of bed for two weeks straight?

She'd worked hard only to have her career be flushed down the toilet, along with all of her dreams; all of their plans?

Les's next words went right through her, as she was busy suppressing her temper. She knew she shouldn't be mad at Dakotah. Dakotah had worked _very hard_ for her position.

"I'd like for you to go too, Ginny," Les said loudly, interrupting Ginny's thoughts.

She nodded and then glanced over to Malfoy, who was looking smug toward her.

"Great!" Les said with a smile. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them rather maniacally. "You two will be leaving in a fortnight then, alright?"

Blinking wildly, Ginny struggled to comprehend what Les just said. She wisely kept her mouth shut though, and as soon as Les had shut the door behind him and Dakotah (after once again reminding her to come to him with any questions or concerns that she might have) she spun around to glare at Draco.

"What in the _hell_ did I just agree to?" she hissed, stabbing her pointer finger into his chest.

He smirked. "Going away with me."

She physically felt her face blanch. Her mouth dropped wide open. "You're joshing me, right?"

Draco gave her a look, which she thought might have been the closest thing she'd ever seen on him resembling a smile. Or a laugh.

When she realized he was being serious, she flipped him the bird and dropped to her chair. Screw him, she thought angrily. She hadn't meant to agree to go anywhere with him; she'd just talk to Les in the morning and get this terrible misunderstanding straightened out.

For the rest of the day she didn't move from her chair.

* * *

Draco looked over to where Ginny sat for the umpteenth time since she'd flipped him off. Her back was to him so he couldn't see her facial features but if the squared set of her shoulders were any indication of how she felt, she wanted to hex him back at least a century or two.

He had known since before he'd come home to England that they would be traveling together. It wasn't his ideal vacation…or prison sentence…but he'd accepted it in record time; having gotten over the fact that he'd be in close quarters with Potter's widow in two days. It shouldn't take her much longer then that to get past it, he decided.

On the other hand, she didn't really know why they were leaving; Les had made sure of that. She didn't know she'd be helping Draco solve the mystery shrouding Harry's murder. Ginny, he knew, didn't know he'd been hired for two reasons: to find Harry's murderer and, at the same time, keep her safe. If their suspicions were correct, Ginny was also a target. Not because she was Harry's wife, but because she was a caser.

Before Les had contacted him, Draco didn't know anything about casing, nor did he care. He hadn't realized how dangerous a job it was. She knew things about crimes committed before they even happened, she knew what it was like to be the person murdered or severely injured before the victim did. Because of that, she wasn't a criminal's favorite crime-fighting force.

Protecting her (probably) freckled arse was most likely going to be more difficult than it was worth, given the spiteful interaction they had had in the past few days. She was fiery, he'd noticed. He detested women with spirit.

Stealing another glance at her, he found his nose wrinkling. Really, did she have to look like a common Muggle today? Aside from the robes she wore, one would never know she was a witch capable of making herself look better than she did this particular day.

If they were going away together, he'd have to make sure she dressed better. Or at least, get her hair fixed, he decided, cocking his head to the side, studying her hair which was falling out of an already haphazard plait.

His eyes narrowed to silver slits. She _was _a Weasel but he couldn't remember her ever looking quite so harrowed as she did this morning. She'd slept later then usual, he figured.

But why? Draco focused his attention on her braid, noting the blonde highlights for the first time. He didn't remember whether or not she'd had them during their Hogwarts years, nor did he care.

Idly, he wondered what had kept her up last night. Did she, perhaps, have a nightmare? Maybe she dreamt something on a case? Was it Harry? Draco sneered. Why anyone would waste their time thinking on Harry Potter, he didn't know. Les had told Draco Ginny didn't suspect a thing about her husband's death but Draco had to wonder.

What would have kept her awake at night?

Draco's nose wrinkled. He really didn't wish to think about what kept her awake at night.

"What?" Ginny snapped.

Draco, startled, raised his eyebrows. He was quick to regain a stoic face although it didn't matter; her back was still to him. "Excuse me?" he drawled lazily.

"You're watching me, aren't you?" she sneered. "Well, what the hell do you want?"

Draco just about choked on his tongue. He couldn't remember ever being called on like that from a Weasley. Apparently she was more astute then her brother. "Nothing," he replied rather soberly.

Ginny spun around in her chair and Draco met her eyes evenly although something in the way she was looking at him made his heart stop, for just a moment's time. She tipped her head to the side and seemed to be considering something.

Managing to look back at her without breaking eye contact was difficult but somehow he managed to do it. He gave her a look that pointedly challenged: "Yes?"

"You're despicable," she finally answered, as if she'd made up her mind on whether or not he could handle such a slight.

Draco opened his mouth to reply but not quick enough.

She'd already turned around and harrumphed so loudly he knew not to bother her. Not that he wanted to.

* * *

Immediately after work, Ginny apparated to The Burrow, missing her mum and family more then she had realized.

Molly welcomed her with open arms.

Two hours later, Ginny was still lying on the broken down sofa that had sat in the middle of the Weasley living room since before she could remember. Her head was in her mother's lap.

Her sobs had long receded into soft sniffles. Her eyes were swollen, her nose was red and still drippy and her throat hoarse from all the crying but she felt better then she had in ages.

"There, there," Molly whispered, her fingers kneading Ginny's temples softly. "It will all be alright, luv," she added gently.

Ginny made a non-committal movement. How could she tell her mum that no, not every thing was going to be alright?

She sat up, bumping her mother's hand from her head. She sniffed and wiped at her nose with her hand. "You have no idea, Mum," she whispered painfully.

Molly wiped at her daughter's tears with her thumb.

"In two weeks time I've got to go away with Draco Malfoy," she said in a low voice. Molly's hand stilled but her kind eyes didn't look away from her only daughter.

"Mum, he was hired to take…to take…well, to take _his _place," she informed her mother. "What am I going to do?" she asked then. Ginny's brown eyes searched out her mother's for a long moment.

Molly placed her hand on the back of her daughter's head, pulling her into a warm embrace. "You, my dear one, are going to continue to go on. It's what Harry would have wanted," she acknowledged, her lips gently brushing against her daughter's hair as she spoke.


	6. Partners and Enemies

This chapter is dedicated to my dedicated beta, _Lina_; I bow down with admiration to your genius, Lovely Lina.

Chapter 5: _Partners and Enemies_

Ron fell off his broom when he heard who Ginny's new partner was. Literally.

"What?" he yelled furiously. His cheeks nearly matched the color of his hair.

Ginny cringed while Hermione stepped forward, putting her hand on her husband's arm. "Ron," Ginny heard her whisper quietly in an apparent attempt to cool him down, however slightly.

It didn't work.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me at breakfast last week?" he demanded.

Ginny looked away and closed her eyes as she began to rub her temples. _Because I knew you would do this._

At that moment, Molly Weasley tumbled out the front door. "What is going on here? I leave for one moment and you two are fighting? What happened to your Quidditch match?" she asked, concern lacing her usually jolly voice.

"Malfoy is Ginny's new partner!" Ron exploded.

Molly put her hands on her hips and shook her head disapprovingly. "Now, Ron, that's no reason to yell, is it?" she asked.

Ginny saw Hermione cast anxious glances between Ron and Molly.

"They'll be going away together!"

Mrs. Weasley sighed heavily but didn't say anything. She looked helplessly at Ginny and shrugged. She turned and began walking back into The Burrow, wringing her hands on the apron she wore.

Ron looked at Ginny, only to follow Molly Weasley into her home. "You knew about this…"

His voice was loud but disappeared as he followed their Mum around the home.

Ginny and Hermione stood outside in silence until Hermione broke it. "I'm sorry about my husband. He doesn't realize…well, I think he's still in denial about Harry." Hermione's voice was quiet, sad.

Ginny didn't say anything. She didn't know _what _to say.

"I'm sorry," Hermione started to say but stopped when Ginny held up a trembling hand.

"Really, it's alright Hermione. You forget I'm Ron's sister. I'm used to his antics." Ginny said, throwing her sister-in-law a small, rather unsure smile.

A light breeze tugged at Ginny's hair, reminding her that it was time to go home.

"Your hair looks nice, by the way. I meant to tell you that before dinner but well, looked busy with your Mum…"

Ginny touched her hair subconsciously. "Thank you. You remember Dakotah Prior from the office? She came over and did it," she explained simply.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Yes, well she did a good job."

Through the open window, Ginny heard her mother's voice grow louder. Ron's too. She looked at Hermione with a smile. "Well, before Ron manages to come out here again, I'm going home. I don't really feel like arguing with Ron about this any more than I'm already going to be once I return from wherever I'm going with Malfoy."

Hermione pulled Ginny to her, embracing her sister and friend. "You take care of yourself, you hear me? It wouldn't do for you at all if you were killed while away with Malfoy; work related or not."

Ginny chuckled in spite of herself. "You're right you know," she replied, pulling away from Hermione to look in her girl friend's eyes.

She stepped away from Hermione. "Right then, I'm off."

Hermione smiled. "Have a good night!" she wished just before Ginny disappeared into thin air with a crack!

* * *

Draco stepped into Dakotah's office long before his coworkers were due to arrive at work. It was six o'clock in the morning.

The American witch was there with a cup of coffee in one hand and a Muggle telephone in the other hand. Her voice was bright and chipper for being so early in the morning. She acknowledged Draco with a nod and then motioned for him to take a seat in the chair across from her.

"You're here early," she observed as soon as she put the telephone back on the receiver. Her eyebrows were raised slightly.

Draco shrugged. "I had trouble sleeping."

"Oh? And what was that?" she asked curiously.

"I never made it to bed, actually. I was up all night reviewing the circumstances surrounding the victim's death," he explained easily.

"You mean Harry Potter's death?"

Draco cringed at the mention of his deceased nemesis.

His advisor laughed heartily. "Oh come off it, Draco! Surely you're adult enough to not be affected by old personal feelings now, aren't you?"

She looked at him square in the eye. Her blue eyes were all-knowing and Draco knew she was sizing him up. "You're ready for the challenge then?" she asked him.

Ready for the challenge? Draco had solved murder cases shrouded in more mystery than this one. "Challenge, Dakotah? I've solved harder cases then this one," he replied a bit sardonically. His mouth twisted into his version of a smile.

For a split second Draco thought he saw a flicker of amusement pass through her wide blue eyes but he couldn't be too sure.

"You're right, of course," she agreed but somehow he didn't think she did.

"Just don't forget: Ginny Potter is part of the investigation _you're _leading; it wouldn't do for either of you to become emotionally invested one way or another."

He managed to stop the laugh which threatened to escape but couldn't quite suppress the cynical snort. "Please, Dakotah, give me more credit then that!"

As serene as her smile was, Draco sensed venom was lurking just behind her pretty red lips. "If you say so, Draco; just don't forget: Ginny is _part of the investigation_."

He left Dakotah's office with a sinking and thoroughly irritated feeling. Dakotah knew he was a professional; he didn't need to be reminded that Potter's widow was part of the investigation; that she was, in fact, a lead witness although she might not even know it.

He reached their office; glad that he'd gotten here earlier then the 7:30 they'd planned on. He needed the time to sort through his thoughts and clear his head. He'd just begun his ritual meditation when a popping noise filled the office.

"Yes, Les?" he asked although he wasn't sure that it was his boss; he just figured that given the way his morning had been going…well, it was worth a guess. Draco turned slowly and sure enough, there was Les standing in the middle of the office looking as awkward and fat as ever.

The older, gentler man watched Draco, considering him. "Take care of her," he finally said, sounding more like a worried father than their boss.

Draco found himself opening his mouth in defense but was interrupted when Les held up his hand, effectively silencing the younger man.

"I'm serious, Malfoy." He gave his employee what could be construed as a threatening look. "I've heard all about yours and Harry's feudal relationship at Hogwarts; as well as your less than exemplary relationship with the Weasleys.

"You may recall my apprehension at hiring you because of who your father was and who you almost were. Only after Dakotah's insistence did I relent. I would like for you to not prove her trust misplaced.

"With that said, Malfoy, while working on this case please remember to keep your emotions, or seeming lack of them, in check. It wouldn't do for you to fight with your partner. Ginny will win."

As soon as his warning left his lips, Les tipped his bowler's cap in Draco's direction and apparated to wherever he'd come from.

Draco wasn't sure how he'd managed to hold his tongue from lashing out at Les even as he'd felt the fury rising in his chest.

Damn his father to bloody hell!

He began pacing the length of the office, a nervous habit he never could remember acquiring.

He stopped suddenly to grip the edge of his desk. "When am I going to live your name down?" he asked quietly, viciously.

Nothing in the silence answered him.

Still irate, Draco picked up the quill nearest him, which happened to be an expensive, delicate glass quill, his initials etched near the base. Once upon a time the damn thing had been part of a set, a gift from his father upon graduating from Hogwarts.

With a force he hadn't used in a long time, he threw it at the wall and watched with a small sense of satisfaction as it burst into a million tiny shards of broken dreams.

* * *

Ginny woke up early that morning from a sleep that had been hacked to pieces by dreams and nightmares alike.

Harry had been there: watching her silently in some, laughing with her in others. Then there were the times when her dream self felt that Harry was there, was so sure he'd been watching her but when she turned, there was only fog.

Malfoy had been there too, Ginny had seen him there, lurking in the dark shadows of her dreams. She could always feel him watching her and even now, awake in the daylight, she felt he was just beyond her eyesight, just beyond her reach.

She shivered at the thought of him always near her.

An hour later, as she stepped into the office building at 7:25 she prayed to Merlin that the two of them didn't have to be gone overnight, and perhaps more importantly, if they were gone overnight she hoped Les had had the decency to reserve two hotel rooms, not one. If Malfoy knew her dreams, had even the slightest inkling of them…she shuddered, not wanting to speculate on what might happen then.

Ginny didn't feel free to walk right into her own office since she could hear obscenities being thrown about as well as other low, unintelligible words and then…all was quiet.

She sighed, tired of feeling trapped in her own domain, and opened the door just as something narrow and sharp came flying toward her. She slammed the door shut just in time to hear the thing break apart.

Waiting until she was sure nothing else was being thrown around, she didn't reopen the door for a good two minutes.

Her partner was leaning on his desk, his palms open against the hardwood top. His eyes were closed.

He didn't even flinch so she wasn't even sure he'd heard her. She looked down at her feet and found the broken glass, glittery on the carpeted floor. Not knowing what else to do, she attempted a sunnier smile then she felt like giving and slightly joked with him. "Nice welcome you just gave me."

He opened his eyes only to glower at her. Then, as if she hadn't seen him leaning wearily against his desk, he'd straightened his lithe body out, looking as regal as ever. And just as icy.

She pointed her wand toward the broken glass and murmured a repairing charm. The object repaired itself, showing off its true, sleek beauty. Ginny surveyed it, thinking the quill looked much too pretty to break, if not at the very least in was too pretty to throw at random walls. She held it out to him; it lay on her palms daintily.

He grunted and looked away from her. "There is a reason it was lying on the floor," he growled.

Feeling a bit more uninhibited than she should've, Ginny shrugged and threw the thing behind her shoulder and didn't even wince when the most expensive quill she'd ever set eyes on shattered behind her.

Malfoy only managed to stare at it.

Ginny drew herself up to her full height; the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders and she found the courage to look him straight in the eye, hoping they might reach some sort of silent agreement.

"Let's go then, shall we?"

He continued looking down at her for a long moment and Ginny noticed faint blue flecks surrounded by the silver mire of his eyes. She blushed and looked away once she realized she was staring.

Draco continued looking at her in an amused sort of way; a way she didn't find very amusing.

After the redness receded from her cheeks, she looked back up at him, this time avoiding his eyes; which left her looking at his nose…he had a very _nice _nose…Ginny lowered her gaze again, not wanting to be looking at his nose, and thinking he had a very nice nose…

Her eyes dropped to his lips. They were pressed together in a thin line and Ginny had a fleeting thought that if Malfoy was to smile…well, he'd have a very nice smile. Her eyes flew back to his the moment her thoughts wandered past his smile.

She smiled with what she hoped was ease. "Where are we off to then?" she questioned, hoping this was at least a safe subject. Les hadn't told her where they were headed to…which was odd at the time she hadn't questioned it.

"Nottingham," he replied quietly, watching her and waiting for her reaction.

"Nottingham?" she asked weakly, feeling her heart stop and then start again, beating at an alarming rate. Her eyes fluttered closed and unwanted images floated to the forefront of her mind.

_The little girl's body…parents dead…house in flames…Harry led the investigation…_

Ginny thought she might pass out. The world was whirring around her at a speed to head wasn't able to match.

She managed to sit down and take a couple of deep breaths. Draco stayed standing, watching her like a hawk.

It took a few minutes but she managed to recover from the shock of hearing that town's name again.

Although she must have been as pale as a sheet, she smiled wanly up at her partner. "Alright then; we can go whenever you're ready."

* * *

The entire way to the apparition port, Ginny prepared herself for going back _there_. She tried to psyche herself into believing it would be alright to go back, even as she stepped out of the Nottingham apparition port into the bright, blinking sunlight.

It had been three years since her first job as a caser in Nottingham. A family of Muggles had been found bludgeoned to death, except for the little girl: who'd burned in a fire alive, finally dying after the shock of the bitter cold nighttime air met with her hot, charred and barely alive body.

Ginny had had a hard time in forgetting the case. It had taken a full year before she could go to sleep without those haunting images hovering there, just beyond her sleep. Harry had been so good to her then: holding her and rocking her as her body was ravished by the nightmares.

"You've been here before?" Draco asked casually.

Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as a dangerous thought crossed her mind. She turned on him, the rising anger evident by the red of her cheeks and the heavy heave of breast. "You sick, sadistic son-of-a-bitch!" she spat out, pushing him away from her. "You _knew_!"

He took two steps back but didn't look too vexed about her sudden outburst. He simply turned a corner of his mouth upward and continued staring at her, waiting for her to continue.

"You prick!" she yelled furiously, unconcerned with the number of people staring at them. "Why in the hell would you bring me back here after you knew what happened?"

Draco grabbed her forearm and forced her to go with him, although she was cursing him out the entire time. "Would you shut up?" he finally demanded, halting so unexpectedly she crashed into him.

Her mouth closed but only for a moment. Draco interrupted her.

"You may continue to cuss me out _after _we check-in at the bed and breakfast, if you must," he told her with an impatience that rivaled her own at being told to shut up by her partner and enemy.

Her nostrils flared and she brought her hand up before throwing it toward Draco's cheek.

Draco was quick though, and stopped her hand by grabbing her wrist just before contact. He lowered his face until they were so close Ginny could see the individual crease lines of his lips. "I wouldn't try it, Weasel," he growled.

Embarrassingly enough, tears stung at the back of her eyes. She blinked once, twice and prayed to God they were gone. Then she did the only thing she could since he was gripping one wrist and the other was useless when it came to those kinds of things.

She spit in his face.

Draco immediately let go of her wrist and recoiled. "You wench!" he shouted as he wiped her spit off of him.

She smirked, rather pleased with herself. Ginny then smoothed out her trousers and ran a hand through her reddish-gold hair and puffed out her chest proudly. "I suppose we should get a move on, then? They'll be expecting us at the bed and breakfast, right?" She smiled as though it was her idea that they continue onward and cocked her head in the direction they were to go before she continued walking on at a fast pace.

Draco scowled but wisely enough kept his mouth in check.


	7. Secrets to Reveal

Chapter 6: _Secrets to Reveal  
_

_She arrived in __Nottingham__ a good hour after her husband and the other rescuers had. Soundlessly, she surveyed the crime scene._

_The house was buckling under the built-up pressure of the flames, swaying this way and that. She hoped and prayed as hard as she could that no one was still in it. It would be just like one of them, her husband in particular, to play the hero._

_It didn't sit well with her, looking at her surroundings. She had been dreaming of this crime happening for a fortnight now—this wasn't what had been revealed in her dreams._

_She breathed deeply. In her dreams, there hadn't been the acrid smell of smoke to burn her nostrils, but the deep, clean scent of the night instead. And there had been one murder in a field, not this messy catastrophe. No, no, no, she thought, this isn't right at all._

_Just then she spotted her husband, bent over a small lump. Her throat clogged with helpless tears, as she knew the body was lifeless. From her vantage point she knew the body was that of a child's. With her heart in her throat, Ginny went over to Harry._

_He saw her before she had taken ten steps toward him. "Gin."_

_"Oh Harry," she said mournfully._

_He reached her, immediately pulling her face to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing on to the fabric of his shirt._

_He smelled of smoke and sweat even as she could smell the cologne he wore. Ginny pulled back to look him in the eye. The flames were dancing across him, turning his eyes into a heated green._

_Bending down, he kissed her lightly, leaving a mark of soot on her mouth. "Merlin, I needed that," he whispered when their lips parted._

_Her smile was melancholic. "How bad is it?"_

_She needn't have asked--she already knew the answer. His eyes held his emotions in them, and tonight they spoke of weakness and inability. Harry always felt that way when he couldn't save the world._

_"It's bad, Ginny," he replied wearily. "The adults…Mr. and Mrs. Perkins…there was no saving them… and their daughter…" His voice finally trailed off as he buried his face in the nape of her neck._

_She rubbed his back soothingly for a moment and when they peeled apart, she was shaken to the core by the look of resolve in his eyes. _

* * *

Draco slammed his hotel room door shut. He was livid; she had _spit on him_! Never had he been treated with such utter disrespect. Hadn't his mother trained him right, he might have been inclined to bring her down a notch or two.

Instead, he ripped off his shirt, two buttons popping off, and slammed it to the floor, as best as one could slam a shirt. It was all he could do to not ram his fist into the wall.

He paced across the room and at one point, turned his wand on the floor-length mirror and blew the glass to pieces. He didn't need to look at another reminder of his mistakes to remember them.

Eventually, he stopped at the pile of broken glass, and looking down he caught a glimpse of the thin scar that ran across his abdomen. Absent-mindedly he touched the scar. It was raised slightly, having been too deep to heal thoroughly. It was perhaps the most important reason he hated Potter to this day.

Draco looked away and with a flick of his wand, the glass had vanished, leaving the mirror's frame to stand all alone: the risk of seeing the ugly tattoo on his left arm would be too much.

He was about to throw another curse at a random object, when he heard a soft knock at his door. He growled and threw on a clean shirt from his knapsack.

Upon opening his door, he found the imp-like Ginny Potter standing there. She was so short he could see the roots of her hair. "What?" he barked.

She winced, but continued on as if she were the one in charge, rather than being his partner. "We're going to the former Perkins residence, correct? I thought that since the murders were committed at night, we should perhaps go there at night, too," she said reasonably enough.

"Is that all?" he asked, bored.

"Do you have to be like that?"

"Like what?" he snapped.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're being impossible, do you know that? I'm not trying to be your enemy here, or make you my own, for that matter. We're partners. We might as well get on like partners," she pointed out.

"I'm not about to bed you, Weasley," he deadpanned. He would never have said a thing like that, never would have _suggested_ it. She was beginning to act far too comfortable with him, though, and he needed to say or do something that would throw her off her firm footing.

In the blink of an eye, her mouth had dropped wide open and her face had turned the color of a ripe tomato. "Wha--? N-no," she stammered. Ginny clamped her mouth shut and then, with a look of absolute determination, opened it again. "Excuse me?" she asked, astounded. "Where the hell did that come from?"

Draco made sure he had his best bored look on, although he was enjoying her discomfort with a perverse pleasure. He tipped his head to the side, considering the small redhead in front of him.

"You and Potter were partners, correct? And, considering that you were married, I feel I may confidently assume he'd bedded you once or twice," he replied darkly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "That's none of your business!" she exclaimed finally.

Draco couldn't help but watch her with an element of amusement. There was something freakily adorable at having a blushing, defensive _Ginny _standing in front of him. He pushed _that_ thought from the front of his mind.

"I didn't mean partners in _that _fashion!" she managed finally.

He smirked. "You should learn to watch what you say. There are people out there who might take it wrong."

"Like you?" she sneered.

Draco shrugged. "No, I knew what you meant all along."

He could hear her stomping down the hall even after he'd closed the door firmly between them.

* * *

He had rapped on her door to no avail: she didn't seem to be answering her door. Irritated, Draco went down to the front desk clerk and asked if he'd seen anyone with red hair walk out of there recently.

The clerk, who didn't seem older than a mere eighteen, nodded happily. "Why yes I did, Sir. She left but not twenty minutes ago, even after I called out to her. I asked if there was anything I could do, but she only shook her head. It's so late…should I have stopped her?" he asked, looking worried.

Draco waved the younger man off. "No, no need to worry. She's an independent woman. She'll do what she wants. Well, thank you anyway," he said, nodding in the boy's direction before leaving the lobby.

He stepped into the nighttime, thinking she must be mad to go wandering about this late at night in a foreign town.

Rubbing his face wearily, he went round back of the hotel, hoping there might be a safe spot for him to Apparate. Once he found it, he concentrated hard and left with a crack.

He landed on his feet with a thud at the bottom of an incline. At the top, he knew, was the field where his partner would be.

The moon was big and round tonight, glowing so white it was very faintly blue. Shadows danced along the hill and when listening close enough, he could have sworn he heard the faint laughter of Moorish pixies up to no good. By the time he reached level ground, silence had won over the night.

He turned cold when he saw _her _standing in the middle of the field, her face upturned to the moon.

The pale blue moonlight washed down on her, illuminating her hair to the color of burning embers, her face a translucent white. Standing as she did, so still, Draco was struck by the sudden thought that she looked ethereal: an angel and she-devil all at once.

She turned her face toward him, half in the light, and half in the dark. Draco found himself fighting to breathe properly.

Her hand went up to her mouth. "Oh Draco," she murmured. "I was so wrong."

It was the first time she'd ever said his first name and something about the way she'd said it, breathlessly, jolted him to the core. He moved closer to her, coming to stand in front of her, morning and afternoon discourses forgotten.

Ginny's eyes were wide with disbelief. She was looking up at him in complete shock. "I was so wrong," she repeated quietly.

"About what?" He couldn't help himself: he wanted to know what she thought she was wrong about.

Walking away, her voice was laced with bitterness. "When I start with a case, I always start with what I've dreamt _about_ that case." She motioned to her surroundings. "The problem was… I didn't dream about the fire. Not once. It was such a hard case because, well, I dreamt about _this _place. I was looking for a murder in a field; I never thought it was about to happen at a home."

She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense; why would my dreams show me a crime scene three years after the fact?"

Draco could think of a couple reasons, but didn't share his ideas with her. It was his viewpoint that she hadn't been casing the Perkins' murders like she thought she was. She was casing _Potter's_.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he whispered quietly.

Ginny looked at him strangely, momentarily silenced.

"What?" He shrugged nonchalantly as if it were normal of him to care.

She continued looking at him. "I don't know," she finally replied. "You almost seemed, well, _normal_ to me." Ginny tipped her head and a couple of locks fell across her left eye, hiding half her face from him. "And then I remembered who you were." She smiled bitterly.

Unconcerned with her opinion of him, Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "Not everything is at it seems."

"Are you a prophet now, Malfoy?" she asked spitefully.

_No_, he thought resignedly, _I just happen to be aware of information you don't have access to yet._ "Don't be so snide, Weasley," he warned.

"Is it still considered snide if it is, in fact, the truth?" she questioned.

Rather than answering, Draco began walking back down the hill. He didn't even know why he had come out; it was late and he was tired. He wasn't going to get any work done, especially with her here pestering him.

"Wait!" He heard her yell for him, but did not stop his descent down the slope.

"Malfoy!" she yelled again, "I said _wait_!"

Draco could hear her scramble to catch up to him; his legs were long, hers were short. "Where are you heading off to?"

"Is it any of your business?" he snapped, stopping suddenly.

She stopped next to him, glaring up at him angrily. Her hands were on her hips, her chest was heaving with every heated breath she took. Again, Draco caught himself thinking she looked _cute_. _For a Weasley, that is_, he improvised.

"Yes," she finally replied. "Yes it _is_ my business. We're partners, Malfoy. We're partners and we are away for work. You can't just leave me standing in the dark!"

Draco glowered. "Fine. I'm not leaving you. I'm offering for you to come with and you've decided to stay behind."

"You're a jerk."

"Yeah, and you're a Weasel," he retorted.

Draco began walking. He didn't have time for this, nor did he want to make the time for it. If she thought he was a jerk, he wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

* * *

Before going to bed, Ginny soaked in a hot bath.

She submerged herself as far as she could and closed her eyes. Her nostrils flared as the lavender-vanilla scent of her bubble bath filled the air. Her eyes drifted shut.

Today had been harrowing. After they'd settled into their own rooms, she'd gone, quite foolishly, to apologize to Malfoy, who had made fun of her in return. She'd stayed in her room for the next two hours until she decided to go to The Hill.

From then on, it had just gotten worse. For whatever reason, Ginny hadn't expected it to look like that. She had thought she would see the burning home all over again and smell the smoke, but looking at it, one would never know there had been a fire there.

Her fingers absently tapped against the cool porcelain of the bath. _Something _just didn't fit right.

She took a deep, heavy breath and shut her eyes, thinking of her last night with Harry.

They'd had a fight; she hadn't told anyone that. Not her mum or Hermione. She hadn't even told Dakotah, whom she felt akin to, if only because they'd both lost their husbands.

Ginny felt so guilty about it. Who fought with their husband the last night they were alive?

She could still see Harry so clearly, defending his odd behavior. _"Gin, there are some things a man needs to keep to himself." _

_"Like what?"_ She understood his point; what she didn't understand was why he wouldn't tell her who the man was she'd seen him talking to on the sidewalk.

_"Harry, what is the problem? I know it wasn't a witch out there you were talking to."_

_"Ginny, leave it alone, won't you?"_

Needless to say, she had left it alone after that. She'd also left him alone that night and slept on the sofa, thinking all night about who that person might have been.

He'd been wearing an expensive cloak, that's what she remembered the most about him. An expensive, dark green cloak with gold buttons.

Ginny's eyes flew open.

Malfoy owned a cloak like that. She'd seen him wearing it once, a few days back. She remembered it now because it had seemed so expensive and looked so dark on him. "What the hell Harry…?" escaped from her lips before she could think about it.

Literally jumping out of the bath, she didn't even towel off before throwing on the fluffy white robe, that belonged the B & B, and running down the hall.

She pounded on his door.

It took a while, but a disgruntled and half-clad Malfoy finally opened the door. He leaned against the doorframe, his heavily lidded eyes not fooling her.

Ginny brushed past him stopping just in front of his bed. Then she turned on him. "Why did my husband meet you the night before he died?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he drawled lazily.

"Yes, you do!" she shot back. "I saw your damned cloak that night! The one you were wearing just a week ago! What the hell were you and my husband talking about?" she asked in a dangerously low voice. Ginny was trying to keep calm, but was finding it very hard to do.

He regarded her closely.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Potter never said anything to you?" he finally asked.

"No, _Harry _never mentioned it."

He looked away and began walking over to the window, buttoning up his shirt as he did. "You weren't meant to know."

She snorted. "Well, everyone's doing a fabulous job of being so secretive, because I don't know what I wasn't supposed to know."

"You're too nosy," he commented absently, then looked at her. "Why are you here in a bathrobe?" he queried.

Her cheeks warmed. She looked down at her clasped hands as a way to avoid his eyes. "I was bathing when I realized it was _you_."

"You were thinking of me in the bathtub?"

If she thought her cheeks had pinked before, they were flaming red now. Her chin snapped up and she was helpless to do anything more than meet his sarcastic gaze. "No. I was certainly _not _thinking of _you_ in the bathtub. I was thinking of Harry and the man I'd seen him speaking with the night before he died. If I had known the man was you, I wouldn't have been thinking about that at all," she stated more calmly than she felt.

"And you came to my room before even getting dressed. Tsk, tsk, Weasel," he edged.

Her eyes closed as she tried to calm herself down. "I wouldn't suggest commenting any further on my dress _or_ lack of it, Malfoy. I know what you are doing. You're trying to get me so befuddled that I won't be able to ask you questions you don't want to answer."

By now he was leaning against the wall. "Who said I don't want to answer your questions? Maybe I don't do it, because I'm obligated not to," he responded tiredly.

"Either way, you're not telling me. I want to know," she demanded much as a five-year-old demands for a cookie. "If it involves Harry in any way, I want to know."

"Look, _Mrs. Potter_, it's none of your concern at the moment. I will let you know what you need to know, _when_ you need to know it."

Ginny came to stand in front of him, as close to him as she could get without actually touching. "Don't do this to me Malfoy," she warned.

"Do what?" he challenged.

Tears started blurring her vision and although she was embarrassed, she didn't back down. "I know what you're doing; you're starting to treat me like I'm a witness. Don't do that to me, Draco. Please? I deserve more than that," she pled despite her best intentions.

She could see that he was torn between himself and what she didn't know. It somehow shocked her: this wasn't how she remembered him. All of the sudden, he wasn't the self-assured ass she remembered him to be. Instead, the man standing in front of her seemed at war with himself and what was right.

He looked at her, his eyes melancholy. "I'm sorry Ginny," he said quietly. "I can't."

She swallowed hard and nodded. Whatever else could she do?

The tears that had been welling up were now a very real threat. Without giving him a second glance, she fled his room.

* * *

Draco swayed on the spot.

Potter had assured him his wife didn't know. He had said, _no one knows_.

Now he was left standing here, lying to Potter's wife, when he should had never had that conversation in the first place.

"Thank you, Potter, for just adding loads more misery to my job," Draco growled sarcastically, just before flipping the light switch off.

Tomorrow would be just another day in this living hell of his.


	8. The Evolution of Things

Many thanks to **Lina**, who works very hard as a beta and still gets it done much faster than I expect. I appreciate you:)

Chapter 7: _The Evolution of Things_

"_Who was that, Harry?" Ginny asked casually, but curiously. She hadn't recognized the tall, cloaked figure._

_Harry physically bristled. "Never mind."_

* * *

Long after those horrifying tears had dried, Ginny lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling of her room, trying to recall everything she had remembered from that last night.

She didn't remember any new details, but what she did figure out was that she was still hurt over their last conversation. Ginny couldn't believe there was something he wouldn't tell her. Somehow, she felt betrayed by her husband: she had told him everything, why didn't he have the same decency?

Ginny was lying in the same position, thinking the same thoughts, when the sun finally broke through the horizon.

She rose unceremoniously and went downstairs to the little nook where breakfast was served without showering, or even dressing properly. She went down wearing pajama bottoms and a white tank top, her feet clad in fluffy bedroom slippers.

Her partner was down there already, absently thumbing through what appeared to be a Muggle magazine. Ginny was positive he had no interest in the goings on of their Muggle counterparts and despised him for putting on such a sham.

She avoided him at all costs, even going as far as where the sausage links were to put them on her plate. She did not like sausage links, but the things she liked--ham and cheese omelets, buttery biscuits and breakfast fruit cups--were all placed near Draco.

While she was eating, she was aware of Draco's eyes on her. She could feel him following her with every move she took, in the way her skin prickled and the nape of her neck was hot. It was disconcerting, knowing there was someone observing her every motion. She almost wished she'd dressed more appropriately or at the very least, showered.

Finally, she was irritated enough to turn around and face him. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

Draco sat there, looking cool, calm and collected as ever. Then he shrugged. "Nothing."

She felt his eyes graze her body. Gooseflesh rose along her arms and body; she suddenly felt more alive than she had in a long time.

Before she even realized he had been standing, Draco was sitting in the seat next to her. "You and I need to talk," he stated lowly.

Ginny shook her head, feeling dumb about the way she had acted last night. It hurt her to admit it, but she did. "I don't want you to tell me anything you aren't supposed to, Draco." She looked him directly in the eye. "I understand your job. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble," she said, a feeble smile playing on her lips.

He sipped his tea and looked at her over the rim of the teacup. "Oh? I would have thought you would love to see me in trouble."

In spite of herself, she giggled, albeit she was quick to cover her mouth. "No, no I don't. I used to, perhaps, but not now," she admitted.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in what she had come to know as his 'smile.' She smiled in return, thinking he was nice looking when the corners of his mouth tipped up. "Fair enough," he replied evenly.

She smiled, looking down at her plate. For some reason, she couldn't let him see her smile.

"Ginny, I'd like to take a walk with you."

Her head snapped up and her eyebrow rose questioningly. "Um, have you seen the way I'm dressed?"

"I'll wait for you to get ready. We've got time," he replied nonchalantly. "You aren't going to take all day, are you?" he warned irritably.

She felt a bit of that famous temper rise in her body and did her best to suppress it. She didn't want to be angry with him. It took too much energy from her.

"Yes, of course," she answered.

Ginny scooted the chair back and it made a scraping noise against the hardwood floor. "I'll be just a minute." She managed to get halfway through the breakfast area before glancing back at her partner.

He had picked up the Muggle newspaper he'd brought with him and was thumbing through the stories at a slow speed. Ginny wasn't sure, but she thought she felt a small smile tug at her lips.

He wasn't at all like he had been at Hogwarts. Somehow, he seemed…kind, like a real person.

She shook her head to dislodge her thoughts and turned to go on her way. She only had a few minutes before he would be expecting her.

* * *

Draco watched her go with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he knew he had some explaining to do; on the other, he and Potter had made a pact of sorts. These days, Draco wasn't the type to break a business agreement.

And so, he waited for her in the tiny, yet comfortable, foyer.

He was impatient waiting for her and ended up pacing the small lobby area. He would have picked up a newspaper to read, but he'd read through the Muggle weekly in less than ten minutes, having given up out of boredom. And to read the_ Daily Prophet _would have been implausible at the Muggle Bed and Breakfast.

So deep in thought he was, Draco didn't notice Ginny come down the stairs until she was standing in front of him, looking at him in amusement.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a hint of a tease in her voice.

He looked at her then, first noticing the little diamonds sparkling in her ears and then noticing how the shirt she had put on clung to curves he'd rather not think about.

She had married _Potter_, for Merlin's sake!

"Waiting for you!" he snapped back cantankerously.

Her smile wavered and Draco found himself wondering what it was she was thinking.

"Yes, well I'm here now," she replied, her smile returning.

He struggled to find a biting remark and luckily, Ginny saved him from having to say anything. "You wanted to go on a walk, Draco?" she hedged.

Draco nodded numbly, still trying to get used to hearing his name on her lips. "Yes, of course," he said finally. "There are some things I need to tell you."

Sometime during the night, he had decided that he would tell her what Harry was involved with and why he had been speaking with him. He didn't know yet how much of all that he would reveal to her, only that she needed to know the gist.

"…_you're starting to treat me like a witness. Don't do that to me Draco. Please?"_ Her words played and replayed in his head all night so much that by the morning, he wasn't sure if she had actually said them or if he had made them up.

Then, every time he was sure telling her was the right thing, another voice warned him lowly to not do _it_. Whatever _it _was. _"…Ginny is part of the investigation."_

As they walked out the door, Draco looked down at her from the corner of his eye. If he hadn't known her, if he was only passing her on the street, he would never have guessed she was recently widowed. It was a disarming fact.

She appeared cool and calm, collected beyond the point of reasoning, but he'd also seen her weepy and unsure of herself. Draco found this fascinating and also terrifying about her, although he would never admit it.

He had grown up in a home where only the strongest survived. There was no place for weakness under his father's roof and although this did not make it a terrible place to live and learn in, it was not the best either.

When his father was sent away to Azkaban, Narcissa hadn't batted an eyelash. She had been preparing for his arrest for months, for ages even. And although he hadn't seen her in eight or so years, Draco was sure she hadn't cried once for her lost husband. He was sure she remained as stoic and stony as ever.

Draco motioned for Ginny to follow him into a tiny park between a grove of trees and a small pond. When they reached the grove, Ginny sat in the little concrete bench that was hidden there; Draco leaned against the strong trunk of the closest tree.

They were silent, letting the leaves rustling in peace.

Draco was openly watching her, taking in the features that made her, _her_. Her hair, he noticed, was up in a haphazard bun and long tendrils of reddish-gold hair were falling out, just begging to be brushed back. He ignored any urges he had and started to speak on the matter at hand.

Before he even started, Ginny interrupted him. "I meant what I said earlier, Draco: I don't want you to tell me anything you can't. I understand; you have your obligations, just as I have mine."

He shook his head. Since the end of his sixth year, Draco had felt the need to prove he was different from his father. That was why he was standing across from Potter's widow: it was something his father would never do, not without the Killing Curse on his lips.

"We'll be going back to London tomorrow," he said easily enough. "Dakotah contacted me this morning," he explained.

Ginny nodded. "That's fine. I'm looking forward to being in my own bed."

"I imagine we'll have to travel another couple of times."

"So I figured."

Their conversation seemed contrived, to Draco's ears. There were other, more important things to be discussed. There would be time to discuss work later.

An awkward silence fell over them.

"Why did you bring me out here, Draco?" she finally queried. Her eyes sparked with interest and curiosity and he was acutely aware of the chance he was taking in telling her the truth.

As was his nature, he did not 'beat around the bush,' but got to his point quickly. "What if I told you Potter's death was not the accident it was made out to be?"

He watched her swallow, could hear the hitch in her breath and somehow he felt her pain. "I would say that it doesn't surprise me," she finally made out. Her words were careful and her voice sounded automatic.

Draco stayed quiet, allowing time for her to ask the questions she surely had.

"Do you know why?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. How much should he tell her? "Not exactly," he replied, deciding this was the safest answer.

She tilted her head to the side, looking contemplative. "I-I don't know what to say," she admitted helplessly.

He only looked at her.

"So it was you I saw Harry talking to the night before he died?" she asked, bringing about their conversation from last night.

Draco nodded shortly.

"But why?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he responded routinely.

She smiled contemptuously. "So then, you'll tell me my husband was murdered, but you won't tell me why you were talking to him the night before he died?"

"What do you want me to say?" he snarled, irritated that she was being so damn persistent about that night.

"How about the truth!" she yelled back.

"And what's the truth, Weasley? Do tell," he mocked. "Since you seem to know why I was talking with him, why don't _you _tell _me_?"

"I would, except that I don't know _what the truth is_!" she exclaimed darkly. "Why the hell are we here Malfoy?" she asked, changing the direction of their argument immensely.

"Because our bosses sent us here," he answered, boredom apparent in the way he held his upper body.

"That's not what I meant! What I meant is _why _are we _here_? There wasn't a murder here and the one that was, was closed two years ago. What the hell are we doing here?" she repeated, her words tripping over an excited breath.

"We're doing our jobs."

She sucked in a deep breath. "Like hell we are." She shot to her feet and started to move away from him, but he reached for her and grabbed the sleeve of her shirt.

"We're not done here."

Ginny looked at him angrily. She looked at him as if she had never hated anyone more. "Oh yes, Malfoy, we are very much so done. You're not telling me anything and I can't stand to look at you anymore. I want to go home," she said rather petulantly.

She pulled out of his grasp, breaking free and began stalking off.

Before he could consider what the next words to come out of his mouth would actually _sound_ like, he said them. "I suppose you used to quit on your husband too, then? Well, I wouldn't expect anything more than that from a Weasley."

She stopped cold. Her shoulders were shaking from the tension. "If I were you Malfoy I would learn to stay the hell out of other people's business, lest you want to be castrated," she threatened.

Draco didn't stop her this time.

* * *

Late the next evening, Ginny stepped into her flat feeling peaceful and calm. She was finally away from that git!

She started unpacking immediately, as it was her least favorite job to do and she wanted to get it done with. Within five minutes, there was a knock at her door. "Come in!" she hollered, figuring it would be Ron or Hermione, or possibly both.

Hermione poked her head into the bedroom. "You must have just gotten back."

Ginny nodded, but didn't look at her; she continued to unpack instead.

Hermione came further into her friend's room and sat on the bed, watching Ginny as she methodically sorted her laundry by colors. "Ron insisted I come into town today, just to make sure you came back. I think he was afraid Malfoy would kidnap you or something," she said jokingly.

Ginny sighed absently and threw one of her shirts over her shoulder. She still did not say anything.

"Ginny? Are you O.K.?" Hermione asked finally.

The redheaded woman slumped down on the bed next to Hermione. "He is so awful, Hermione," she admonished.

Hermione's brows crinkled together. "Ron or Malfoy?"

Ginny rubbed her face wearily. "Well, both… but I was referring to Malfoy." Ginny could physically feel her energy draining from her body, just _thinking_ about Malfoy.

"What happened? He didn't try anything on you, did he?"

Although she would have liked to have lied, just to see Hermione hex him into next week, she told the truth. "No, of course not. He didn't try anything other than to piss me off, in which case he was a grand success. The asshole," she added irritably.

Hermione put her arm around Ginny's shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. "You didn't have to use you bat-bogey hex on him, did you?" she teased.

Ginny chuckled despite herself. "No, but had I done it, he surely would have deserved it."

She continued to put away her clothing, and Hermione helped her. "Did you stop at your office then?" she asked.

"Yes, I did. I spoke with Dakotah and Les; they mentioned something about a ball…?"

Hermione uh-hummed as she went to pick up the shirt Ginny had thrown on the floor. "A Gala, actually, put on by Hogwarts, as a nod of acknowledgement to all the witches and wizards who fought in the battle eight years ago. It is, after all, the eighth anniversary of Voldemort's defeat," she said pointedly.

Ginny bit her lip, embarrassed that she had forgotten the anniversary was coming up soon.

Hermione seemed rather oblivious to this though and continued rambling on about the Gala. "Ron and I will be going, of course. Your parents, too. I ran into Parvati at St. Mungo's--she mentioned going and she said Seamus and Dean would be there too," she added happily.

"Well, I'm not going," Ginny announced resolutely.

Hermione stared at her unbelievingly. "But…you have to."

"No I don't," she argued, slightly irritated that Hermione thought she had to go anywhere.

"Yes, you do," Hermione stated a bit more forcefully.

Ginny gave her sister-in-law a strange look. "Why would I _have to_ go?"

"Because you're Harry Potter's wife," Hermione pointed out simply, as if that explained everything.

"Um, no, Hermione, I'm not. I'm Harry Potter's _widow_," she said, feeling cross now.

She could see Hermione bristle under her gaze.

"Well?"

Hermione was still looking at her dumbfounded. "Well what?" she said finally.

"Well what does being Harry Potter's widow have anything to do with anything?"

Hermione stood up. "It has everything to do with why you should be there. Harry was the most loved, most recognized wizard of all times and you were married to him! You can't just _not go_ to an event designed to celebrate the victory over Voldemort!" she explained passionately.

"Thank you for reminding me, Hermione. I'd forgotten." Ginny's voice had grown dark and sad.

To her credit, Hermione looked genuinely distressed. "I'm sorry, Gin. I didn't mean to be so…crass. Of course we'll all understand if you don't want to go," she said, backpedaling fast.

Ginny forced a small smile. "Yes, of course, Hermione. I know. I'm just tired is all," she lied.

Hermione kissed Ginny on the cheek. "I told Ron you'd be tired and just want to go to bed, but you know how your brother is: he never listens."

She smiled fondly and mouthed a _thank you_.

"I'll let myself out," she said to Ginny. "You get some rest."

* * *

_She felt his fingers run down her bare back and she shivered. She'd never felt like this before._

_He lowered his mouth to kiss her as she arched her back to meet him halfway. She kissed him hard, wrapping her arms around him to bring him closer to her. _

_His hands cupped her breast and her breath momentarily slipped. It had never felt this way before, being with a man._

_As their lips met again, she heard a voice calling out to her. Harry. _

Ginny's eyes popped open.

Her alarm clock was buzzing.

She picked up the clock and threw it across the room, annoyed that she was interrupted from a phenomenal dream (one that was better than her current reality) only to go to work. Then she took a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves before turning over to begin her day again


	9. Femme Fatale

Chapter 8: _Femme Fatale_

Two days later, Ginny and Malfoy were barely giving each other nods of acknowledgement. Since returning to the office, they hadn't spoken to each other unless they absolutely had to.

Dakotah had noticed immediately yesterday and pulled Ginny to the side.

"_What's going on with you and Draco?" _

_Ginny bristled. "Nothing."_

_It was obvious Dakotah didn't believe her. "Aside from being your supervisor, I'm also your friend, Ginny. If there are any conflicts of interest between you and Draco, I'd like to know. Perhaps I can mediate?" she offered. _

_She couldn't help but shake her head to decline Dakotah's suggestion. "Malfoy being a prat isn't something that is fixable," she replied coolly._

And it wasn't, she thought again. He was rude, cold, and uncaring. He had always been, as far back as she could remember. He wasn't going to change, and Ginny accepted that. Hopefully, he would quit and then her life could return to normal.

There was a quiet knock on their door, followed by Dakotah, looking liking a queen, and Les, looking as dumpy as ever. She smiled fondly at her boss and he smiled back.

"I've reread the report that was written by you and Harry, Ginny. Are you sure you aren't missing anything?" Les asked kindly.

She knew her partner was watching her, and having him eyeing her like that was more irritating and disconcerting than one of the twins' pranks. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth before thinking. "With all due respect, Les, I'm not going to answer that until someone tells me what is going on."

Dakotah's eyebrows rose and Les's face turned red, probably because he was wheezing.

Ginny felt bad, but didn't back down.

Dakotah glanced at Malfoy and something resembling fury rose up in Ginny's chest. She had to shut her eyes and count to five to keep from yelling very loudly.

"What do you mean?" Dakotah asked, her gaze returning to Ginny.

Ginny ignored her; she looked toward Les instead. As far as she was concerned, Les was her _only _supervisor. She was being mean, but Dakotah was looking at Malfoy again and that too made her angry.

"What I mean is, what the hell was I supposed to be doing there? There wasn't a murder… hell, there wasn't even a crime _scene_!" she explained.

Les looked pale while Dakotah watched her wearily.

"You're asking too many questions," Dakotah finally said. Her voice was quiet, and to Ginny, it seemed as if she was daring her to argue.

Ginny peered at Dakotah closely. It might have been just her imagination, but Dakotah had been acting differently as of late; she'd been looking at Draco more often than Ginny would have liked.

Dakotah's head turned up into Draco's general direction; Draco took a couple of small steps away from her. It may have been amusing if Ginny wasn't so hard-pressed to figure out what Dakotah was playing at. They were friends, true, but Ginny had learned long ago that it didn't matter who was your friend and who wasn't: you were careful either way.

Ginny took a step toward Dakotah. Peeved at her for having said she asked too many questions, and even more so for apparently forcing herself on Draco, she shrilled, "I'm asking _too many _questions? I've asked _one _question, Dakotah! _One_!" She held up her index finger. "I didn't think that was too much to ask!"

When Dakotah didn't say anything, Ginny went on. "But I do have another question for you: why are you throwing yourself at _my _partner when he so obviously doesn't want anything to do with you?" she asked spitefully, not being able to control herself.

Stepping forward rather meekly, Les cleared his throat. "Ginny, we all know you've been under pressure lately and so I'll forgive you for your outburst, but I must request you keep your tongue in check from now on, Ginny."

"Excuse me?" She could hardly believe what Les was telling her. He had never once told her to keep herself in check before. She was mortified.

Les nodded empathetically. "I know I've never asked you to reign in your emotions before and I don't like to do it now, but… it's for your own good, Ginny. It really is. A fortnight from now is the Hogwarts Gala; I expect you to be there with a smile."

The floor dropped out from below her. "I'm not going," she managed weakly. She'd been telling people that for the past two days. She was _not _going.

His smile said he understood. "Ginny," he started pleasantly. "You have to be there. Your husband will be celebrated, as will the lives lost eight years ago. It is the most important event in the wizarding world since the Final Battle," he explained.

She wanted to respond, to argue, but her brain simply refused to wrap itself around Les's words.

Dakotah was nodding with Les's words.

Ginny was dumbfounded. She was cornered. She couldn't remember feeling like this— not since she was a girl.

"The most important wizards and witches of the time will be there, Ginny," Dakotah intervened with a smile. "Why, Hermione and Ron will be there, too!"

_Why does everyone think I'll do whatever Hermione and Ron do? _

"Yes, I know," she muttered weakly.

"Draco didn't want to go but he's decided to," she said brightly.

Ginny glared at her supervisor. "You're not helping your case any," she grumbled.

"Ginny," Les began, placing a beefy hand on her shoulder, "it will be alright. It really will."

_Doubtful_.

"For now though, how about you go home? You're tired," he said sympathetically. His smile was reassuring. "Go home and take a nap. Read a book."

Normally, Ginny would have argued with Les but as it was, she wanted to be alone. She felt like the three of them were suffocating her and she was sure she would go mad if she had to stay in this office a moment longer.

After Les and Dakotah left, Ginny didn't waste time in putting her things away: the records she was keeping on the two days in Nottingham, as well as the picture she'd found herself looking at again. _We all looked so happy_.

She walked out of her office without a parting word in her partner's direction.

* * *

The first thing she noticed upon reaching her hall was the thing lying directly in front of her door; the second thing she noticed was red stain on the thing.

Her fingers were shaking ever so slightly as she reached down to pick it up. The stain was indiscernible even up close. Dread filled her. She didn't have to open the parchment or even read it to know what it said, or at the very least, to know what it was referring to.

_I'm feeling guilty. Won't you forgive me?_

* * *

An hour after the office had been locked, the lights shut off or in some cases, dimmed, Draco was still hunched over his work, studying the reports Potter had left of those crime scenes. He was sure Weasley or _Potter _or whatever-name-she-went-by didn't know these reports even existed.

Potter had written them in the weeks before his murder.

There were obvious similarities between the two reports, but Weasley's was written on a broader scope, mentioning the crime scene as a whole, not the little details. Potter's, on the other hand, recalled the way the wind was blowing that night and each sound, even that of a cricket chirping. But there was nothing in either report alluding to the fact that Potter had been set-up and then followed like there had been in the other two cases.

Draco rubbed his eyes wearily. He was very tired: it had been a long day.

In the silence, every sound was discernible, to the buzz of the fluorescent lights to the clacking of heels down the hall and finally, the turn of the doorknob.

He sat there quietly, and didn't tense in the least bit when soft, overtly feminine hands slid across his shoulders. "I would have thought you'd be long gone by now," Dakotah's familiar voice echoed in his ears.

She began kneading his shoulders, working at the knots that were there. He groaned; it felt so good.

"Are you always so tense?" she murmured, her voice as loud as a bullhorn's in the dead silence.

"Since coming to work here, yes," he returned shortly.

When her hands, stronger than he would have imagined, traveled from his shoulders to his crown, he sucked in a deep breath sharply. His eyes, traitors of their own accord, shut and he allowed himself to get lost in the sensations her fingertips were creating.

It wasn't long until her fingers had slipped to his neck, creating swirls of tension up and down his body.

He soon found himself facing her, his hands on her hips while she kissed his forehead, then each cheek and finally his nose.

Draco stood up so that he might get a better grip on her. They straightened together and it wasn't long before his arms were wrapped around her and her kiss deepened on his lips with a blistering heat.

"Stop!" He broke away from her dispassionately. As slow as his mind was at the moment, he knew this was not what he needed, no matter how much he wanted it.

Dakotah's eyes darkened and her lips came together in a pout.

Heat raced through his veins.

"You don't _mean _that, do you Draco?" she quizzed softly, an amused glint in her eyes. Her hands fell from the back of his neck to his chest, working deftly at the buttons of his shirt.

The top clasp came apart and then the second and third. Draco closed his eyes as the air-conditioned breeze of the room met his warm skin. She kissed the skin covering his breastbone. Her tongue pressed against his skin and gooseflesh flared everywhere.

"How many more times can you refuse me?" she whispered, her voice a million miles from where he was now.

Draco somehow knew this evening would be the first time he gave into her.

His mind was swimming as her hands slipped lower to the crotch of his trousers. The sound of them unzipping was lost beneath their heady breaths.

She smiled vixen-like and kissed him, pulling him deeper into the cavernous lust she had created.

* * *

Ginny had tried concentrating on anything but the short note and had ended up breaking a piece of her favorite china set in the process.

"God_dammit_!" she cursed, scrambling to her knees to wipe the broken pieces toward her. She would do a repairing charm, but not before she found all the glass.

_Won't you forgive me?_

She rocked back on her feet, landing on her bottom with a hard thud. Ginny stared helplessly at the ceiling. She knew she would have to tell someone about the letter: as much as she tried denying the fact after the first one, she wasn't able to deny it any further.

The problem was, she didn't have anyone to turn to.

Oh, she knew her mum and dad would listen, they always did. Ron and Hermione, they would listen too. Really, any of her family would listen. And then they would want blood.

She sighed. _That_ was where the problem lay. For a thing like this she needed someone clear-headed and calm. Someone who could stay cool under the harshest of circumstances, in case this got sticky.

Ginny hated to admit it, but what she needed--no, _whom _she needed--was someone like Malfoy.

Truly, she despised herself for even thinking of him at a time like this.

She left the broken dinner plate on the floor, stood up and stretched. Then she rubbed her cheeks with her hands wearily.

_I'm feeling guilty. Won't you forgive me?_

"No," she announced firmly, an answer to a person who wasn't there. A person she had never seen. "No, I will not forgive you," she added more firmly.

She massaged her temples, her eyes glazing over to a place far, far away. "Who _are _you?"

Ginny pointed her wand over to the shabby briefcase she sometimes carried with her and it flew over to her. The lid flew open and she dug through the messy, scattered papers knowing she had put that first note in it.

"Dammit!" she said angrily, having not found it.

After some quick thinking and eliminating a couple of possibilities, she realized she had taken the parchment out that morning, shortly after arriving at the office. She must have stuffed it into her top desk drawer.

She needed that note.

Although it was against company policy (though not punishable), Ginny decided to go back to the office. She glanced at the wall clock that hung over her seldom-used stove. It was closing in on seven o'clock. "Oh, bugger it," she muttered. _So what if the office has been closed for nearly two hours? _

She made up her mind then: she would take a quick peek into the top drawer of her desk and if the note was there, fine. If not, well, then she'd obviously left it somewhere else.

* * *

Early on in her career with the Liaisons office, Les had given Ginny her own 'key' per say: another flick of her wand that would allow her, and only her, into the building after hours. So getting inside wasn't a problem.

Although it wasn't her first time in the building after hours, Ginny couldn't help but feel a tad nervous.

The stillness of the building reverberated through her.

Fondly, she remembered the last time she'd been here after closing.

"_Shh, Harry! We're going to get caught!" she admonished. She was trying to be serious but couldn't keep the giggle in her throat. She let out a great, happy laugh as Harry kissed the spot just below her ear._

"_You know," his eyes were sparking seductively, "I've always wanted to shag you in the office."_

_Ginny's mouth dropped open. _

_He waggled his eyebrows in her direction. "Well? What do you think, Mrs. Potter?"_

_Laughing, she swatted him away with her. "Get off of me, Harry! If my husband knew…well, we'd be the biggest scandal in the wizarding world_."

_He kissed her soundlessly. "You are so…hot." His breath was hot and sexy against her. _

_Ginny was losing herself to him despite the best of her intentions. _

_And somehow, they had ended up naked and shagging on the waiting room floor._

She blinked in order to bring herself back to reality. Of course, she had stopped right in front of the waiting room. Ginny shook her head and hurried to her office, swinging the door open before she had the chance to notice the light was still on.

"Shit, Ginny!" a venomous voice shouted while an ultra-feminine voice yelped.

"Oh Merlin," she groaned weakly, taking in the scene.

Her partner was standing at the window, clad only from the waist down while their supervisor… well, Ginny wasn't totally sure _what_ she was wearing.

Draco hastily pulled on his shirt, which had been draped over the back of Ginny's chair and then turned on her. "What the hell are you doing here at this time?" he hissed.

Only after a moment of letting his words sink in was she able to respond. "What am _I _doing here?" she reiterated. "_What am _I _doing here? _I think I ought to ask you the same question, but I'm sure I already know the answer!" she defended.

"Don't turn this on me," Draco growled. "You're the one here after hours!"

Ignoring Dakotah's affronted whispers, Ginny brushed past Draco, making a beeline for her desk. "I'm here on business," she stated loudly. "What are you here on?" she challenged.

Ginny noticed the irate glare he sent in Dakotah's way. "I was just leaving."

"Typical man," Ginny shot back.

She pulled out the familiar, now wrinkled parchment. "Aha! I found what I came here for." She went to the doorway, but Draco blocked her way. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked statuesque at the moment. "Get out of my way, Draco," she ordered.

"What's that?" he asked, directing both of their interest to the parchment.

Ginny felt her hand automatically squeeze around it and she heard the paper crinkle. "Never mind. Just let me leave."

For a moment, she was sure he would argue with her and was relieved, although almost saddened, when he didn't. Instead, his arms dropped from across his chest and he stepped out into the hall in front of Ginny.

She was just about to the waiting room when he caught up with her.

Before he could ask her to stop, she turned and faced him. "Yes?" she asked. She pushed back at her hair furiously; it never did stay out of her eyes.

"What if I said it's not what it looked like?"

Her eyes narrowed and she sized him up. "I would say that's bullshit."

Draco backed away from her, putting a hand through his hair. "That's fair."

"No, Draco, I would say that is more than fair. That's the truth." She threw a disdainful look to the end of the hall, where she knew Dakotah was waiting for Draco. That thought made her crosser still. She jerked her head up, so that she might again look Draco in the eye.

_He is so tall. Not as tall as Ron but definitely taller than Harry_.

"Well now, I'm about finished here, Draco. Goodnight." The smile she gave him was one of bitterness.

She almost hoped he would call her back to him as she walked away, but her footsteps were only met with a fading echo.

* * *

Draco watched her go: it seemed to him he was always watching her go. There was something quite unsettling about that revelation. So unsettling, he nearly called out after her, and then he remembered that Malfoys did _not _call out after _anyone_, certainly not a Weasley.

Dakotah sidled up next to him. He felt her breath against his jaw and steeled himself for her attack.

She began stroking his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. "We can take this back to my place, there won't be any more unwanted visitors," she murmured suggestively.

He grabbed her hands and pushed them away from him. "No, Dakotah." He looked down at her open face. _She doesn't even know what she saw._

The blonde was much more perceptive than she appeared to be at the moment. "But I thought you said—?"

He pushed her away. "Stop it Dakotah," he demanded crossly.

She pressed her lips together and stepped away from him, looking livid. "If that's what you want."

Draco couldn't help his wandering eyes. He answered her, looking to the same door Ginny had just walked out of. "It's what I want."


	10. Meant to Be

Chapter 9: _Meant to Be_

Ginny refused to look anywhere but directly in front of her as she opened her office door the next morning. She had no desire to think about what might have happened on the floor, his desk, or worse yet, her desk. Her nose wrinkled with the last thought.

She flipped the switch on and almost wished she hadn't when the too-bright lights momentarily blinded her.

Gingerly, she sat down in her chair. She kept her back to their door so that she wouldn't see Draco when he entered with that confident air of his. She still didn't know how she felt about what she'd witnessed last night, although she'd hardly thought of anything else as she tossed around in her large bed.

In an attempt to focus her energies on something other than awkward memories, Ginny pulled out the two, short notes and laid them flat on her desk to compare them.

The handwriting was different; that was immediately obvious. The first was scratchy and looked hastily written, while the other was printed neatly. She didn't recognize either handwriting. Ginny sighed and pulled at her hair until her scalp itched.

She heard the door creak open behind her but she didn't pay it any heed. She didn't want to face Draco or Dakotah just now.

"Hi Gin," her brother's voice broke into her thoughts.

Ginny whirled around with surprise at hearing Ron's voice. "Ron! Merlin, you startled me." As she was standing to hug him, her eyes narrowed and she looked at him skeptically. "What are you doing here?" she asked suspiciously. He hadn't yet been to visit her at work since she'd come back.

Ron's eyes seemed glued to the floor and he began scuffing his shoes on the floor sheepishly.

"Ron?" she edged sternly.

When he didn't answer, Ginny stepped forward, her nostrils and temper flaring. "Ron, what are you doing here?" she demanded.

He finally looked up at her. His eyes burned into hers, soothing her irritation. "I just thought it would be nice to visit my baby sister at work," he said soothingly, in an attempt to mollify her.

Ginny couldn't help the grin that tugged on her mouth and smiled despite her wariness at Ron's visit. She stepped forward and hugged him.

Ron leaned down to gather her in his arms and so she could see when her partner, followed by a simmering Dakotah, entered her office.

Her brother's back immediately straightened and she felt her heels hit the floor again. She prayed Ron wouldn't do anything too embarrassing.

Instead of acknowledging Draco, Ron went immediately to Dakotah. He stuck out his hand and Dakotah grasped it fleetingly. "It's so good to see you again, Ron," Dakotah greeted warmly.

"You too, Dakotah. I've just come by to see Ginny. Hermione saw her a couple of nights ago and said she seemed to be acting off." Ron's glare skipped momentarily to his enemy.

Ginny didn't think Draco seemed particularly affected by this though.

Dakotah tipped her pretty head to the side, a quizzical look in her eyes. "Did she? I thought she was acting normally." Dakotah shrugged and said easily enough, "Do you know Draco Malfoy, Ron? I believe I've forgotten my manners and haven't introduced the two of you."

Ginny wanted to laugh, watching Ron's face turn stone cold and seeing Draco's glare darken considerably.

The blonde woman put her hand on her mouth. "Oh, that's right! I'd forgotten; you two are old classmates, aren't you?" She giggled. "How silly of me!"

"That's alright," Ron replied bitterly.

Either Dakotah was too dense to notice it or she preferred to fake ignorance and she plundered ahead. "Are you and Hermione going to be at the Gala, then? Draco and I are going together," Dakotah announced, putting her hand on Draco's shoulder.

Too affectionately, Ginny thought jealously.

"Yes, Hermione and I will be there. She's insisting we go. In fact, all of us Weasleys will be there. Ginny included," Ron added flippantly.

Ginny's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?" she interrupted much more loudly than she'd meant to.

Three sets of eyes turned to her: Dakotah's were gleeful, Ron's demanding and Draco's, well, his were unreadable.

"I know you said you weren't going to, but Ginny… be real. You were Harry's wife, you've got to go," Ron said, as if that explained everything.

"Oh, yes, Ginny! You must go!" Dakotah interjected encouragingly.

It was not lost on Ginny that Draco was the only one not saying anything. Oddly enough, it hurt to know he didn't care whether she went to the Gala or not.

"Ron," she started quietly, "I've already told Hermione I wasn't going. You would think the wizarding world would understand if Harry Potter's widow didn't want to attend a Gala within the first year of his death." Her words came out sharper than she'd intended and she knew it by the way her brother's face blanched.

"Do you really believe that?" he finally questioned. His voice was not even a strangled whisper.

She didn't have anything else to say to him, so she just nodded.

The blueness of his eyes stood apart from the whiteness of his face and it killed Ginny to know she'd caused that pale death look he wore.

"Right then," Dakotah interrupted, having enough decency to sound somewhat ashamed, "I've got to get back to work."

Ron looked at Dakotah and then at Ginny. "Yes, me too," he said finally before walking out on Ginny. Dakotah followed him, leaving their office with a small smile. The door closed firmly behind her.

Ginny didn't have to see Draco's smirk to know it was there. "Go to hell, Malfoy!"

He moved to her, so that he somehow came to be in front of her. Ginny felt herself go flush at the nearness of him but refused to let him intimidate her. "Draco, I really don't have any time for all this nonsense."

But he had turned and was reaching for the papers on her desk. Before she could stop him, he had them both in his possession and was reading them. Ginny stayed silent, simply because if she went to grab them they would be torn and she didn't want to have to put the pieces back together. She wanted them in original form.

Instead, she kept her sight on Draco. His facial expression didn't change, but when he looked at her, she could tell he was angry.

"Who gave you these?" he asked, waving the notes in the air above his head.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know."

He looked like he didn't believe her. "Tell me the truth, Ginny," he demanded slowly.

"Is there a signature on the bottom of the page, Draco? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I didn't see one—"

"You honestly don't know who sent this?" He was looking worried now. Ginny didn't think there would ever come a day when Draco Malfoy looked worried.

"No," she replied sincerely.

Draco looked as if he still didn't believe her. He pointed her wand to the door and Ginny heard a faint click. Ginny stared at him with disbelief. He had just locked them in! Before she had time to realize how she felt about that, Draco started talking.

"When did you get these? Where did you get these?" he interrogated.

Ginny instinctively knew it would be useless to fight him on this. She gave him a very pointed look. "The first one I got, the one that says 'I'm sorry,' I received the first week you were employed here—"

"That long ago?" he interjected.

"Oh, sod off and let me talk, will you? You're the one who wants the answers," she replied stingingly.

She could see his jaw stiffen and knew he would remain quiet. Ginny eyed him cautiously before continuing. "The other note I found yesterday afternoon when I came home from work. I didn't have that other one to compare the two; that's why I came back last night: to get the first note."

"You just found them both?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No. The first one was delivered by a man."

"You didn't know him? Or at the very least, recognize him?" Draco queried.

"No, Draco, I didn't. I'm pretty sure he wasn't from around here though," she added thoughtfully.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you think he wasn't from around here?" Draco asked infuriatingly slowly.

"His accent reminded me of your girlfriend's," she replied, a hint of jealousy decorating her otherwise patient voice.

"Dakotah is not my girlfriend," he clarified.

Ginny smirked. "Fine then, his accent reminded of your bed buddy's accent."

He glowered but left it at that.

"Anyway," she started, "He only said 'they' told him to deliver it and he wouldn't tell me who 'they' were."

Draco was quiet for a long time and Ginny didn't dare speak. "Well shit, Weasley, why the hell didn't you tell anyone?" he prodded.

"Who says I didn't?" she shot back quickly.

The look he gave her told her she was a moron if she expected him to believe that.

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Fine, I didn't say anything but only because, what was I supposed to say? 'By the way, I've received some odd notes from a mysterious person. Oh, and I think the person who sent it was somehow involved in Harry's death.' That would go over real well," she finished tetchily.

"You should have said something. After that weekend in Nottingham, you should have told me." He spoke quietly, looking into her eyes earnestly.

"Why? I'd tell Dakotah before telling you," she spat out. Ginny looked away from him because it was too hard to see his eyes on her.

"But you didn't," he continued harshly.

She continued looking anywhere but at him. She didn't need to look at him to know he was furious with her. "Well, you know now so what's the problem?"

He turned his back to her and went to the window. Ginny tried not to notice how the sunlight streaming in through the pane reflected off his hair, making it seem as if he was wearing a halo.

Right. Malfoy wearing a halo. That'll be the day.

"I agree with your brother, Weasley, you should go to the Gala," he finally said.

Ginny's mouth opened to argue but he cut in.

"I mean it, Weasley. I'm not telling you what to do because I think your brother is right, that'd be the day. I'm not even telling you to go the Gala because the wizarding world needs you to be there," at his own words, Draco rolled his eyes. "I think you should go to the Gala for yourself." He was watching for her reaction through her reflection on the window.

"What business is it of yours what I do?" she quizzed.

Draco seemed to be considering her as he continued looking at her reflection.

She flushed under the intensity of his consideration. She felt something stir in her, an awakening of sorts. It had been the same thing she'd been feeling ever since she'd met him. Ginny hated to admit how much it scared her.

Her gaze faltered.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention what you saw last night to anyone, even Dakotah."

Ginny's eyebrows rose but she forced herself to continue looking away from her partner.

"Well, I'm glad we got all of that settled," he finalized. And when he turned, he pointed his wand at the door. "Alohomora!"

She barely even registered the unlocking of the door; her thoughts were in turmoil.

* * *

Hermione had come over early in the afternoon to help Ginny dress for the Event of the Year, as Ginny had not-so-fondly dubbed it.

"I still can't believe you're actually going!" Hermione exclaimed happily as she brushed through Ginny's hair.

Ginny smiled bitterly. "Are you sure you know what you are doing, Hermione?" she asked nervously. Even though it was Hermione and perhaps because it was Hermione, she wasn't completely at ease with the prospect of her sister-in-law doing her hair.

Hermione's coif was already done: piled up at her crown. Little curls spilled out of the loose bun to frame her face. Ginny thought her friend looked like a Grecian goddess: not Aphrodite, but Athena.

"Of course I know what I'm doing!" She laughed at Ginny's uncertainty. "Parvati gave me some tips and ideas on how to do your hair."

"You've taken a lesson from Parvati Patil?"

She shrugged. "Parvati has a lot of good qualities, I've learned. I should've known that all along, I suppose. She was sorted into Gryffindor, after all. Besides, you can't argue the fact that she does have amazing taste."

Ginny's eyebrows rose. "Since when do you care about amazing taste?"

The hairbrush stilled halfway done Ginny's mane of reddish-gold locks. "Oh, I don't know that I do. But it is nice to feel and look sexy once in awhile," she admonished, a slight blush gracing her cheeks.

"You know those robes she picked out are going to look gorgeous on you," Hermione added thoughtfully.

Ginny felt rather nervous, thinking on those dress robes that shimmered either green or gold depending on the lighting with the plunging neckline. Only another three hours.

* * *

Draco arrived back at Hogwarts after an eight-year absence with his hand on the small of Dakotah's back. He did so grudgingly.

The Gala looked to be in full swing by the time they arrived. Indeed, Les and his wife were already there, as well as a few other people he recognized from the office. Draco followed Dakotah around, making the usual greetings as she hugged and kissed people.

It wasn't long before he excused himself to the refreshment table. He sipped meade from a crystal goblet, observing the crowd from over the rim.

Apart from his coworkers, Draco recognized former classmates as well as teachers. Of course, this had been McGonagall's idea; former instructors would be littering the floor of the Great Hall.

"Is that who I think it is?" a man's voice asked, shocked, from behind him.

His goblet stopped midair and Draco turned to face the man intruding his thoughts.

The person standing in front of him looked vaguely familiar but he would have to dig up loads of old memories to place him. "Forgive me; your name would be…?" His tone was bored, which he was.

A wide grin spread across his face in hearty amusement. His eyes were laughing at him. "Seamus Finnigan, Malfoy."

Draco didn't remember the Finnigan standing before him. He remembered Finnigan as a goof-off and nothing more, not the collected-looking individual before him. "How do you do?" Draco managed to ask, even though he wasn't feeling particularly chatty. He put the goblet to his mouth and downed the rest of the meade in one swallow. Then he had the bartender fill his cup.

Seamus laughed heartily. "I can see you want to be here as much as I do." Seamus motioned for the man to fill up his own goblet. "So, who are you here with?" he asked casually.

"I came alone," Draco replied shortly, not caring if Seamus knew he was lying.

The Irishman didn't look as if he believed him. "So did I," he said, "although Parvati –you remember Parvati Patil, yes? She invited me."

Draco nodded just as his eye caught a flash of red hair. The tallest of them all by far, the King of Weasels was walking past him, laughing with someone much shorter than him, if the way he gazed down was any indicator.

Following Weasel's gaze, Draco found himself looking at a very much grown Hermione. Although she was apparently married to King Weasel, Draco appreciated her looks. She'd turned into quite a head turner, although she was still not nearly as stunning as Dakotah, he compared.

Looking past his two school rivalries, Draco picked the rest of the Weasels out of the crowd easily enough. All except his partner.

He spotted Dakotah then. She waved him over and he bid Seamus goodbye to join him.

Dakotah smiled at him and Draco nodded back. When he reached her, she put her arm affectionately around his back. "Do you know Hermione Weasley, Draco?" she asked before he realized who the petite woman standing before him was.

Hermione's elegant smile didn't falter under Draco's cold nod. "Yes, I went to school with nearly half of the people here, Dakotah," he reminded her irritably. He didn't need to be introduced to every other person.

"Can we leave now?" another voice joined the conversation. Draco would've recognized Ginny's voice anywhere.

He turned to his left to look at his partner and just about dropped his goblet upon seeing her.

Despite the petulance in her voice, she looked every bit as elegant and composed as any of the women who wanted to be here. Robes of a greenish-gold color contrasted with the redness of her hair beautifully, accentuating the flecks of blonde in her otherwise auburn hair.

The fabric of her robes looked to be soft to the touch but more importantly, it stretched across the flat of plane of her stomach only to cling to the hips he'd been trying to ignore for the past few weeks. Draco tore his gaze from her middle, to look into her face, swearing his heart stopped when he finally noticed the plunging neckline of her dress robes.

She showed off a creamy expanse of skin, milkier white than Draco had dared to imagine, even in his dreams. A smattering of pale freckles danced upon her skin. Draco felt a bit dizzy looking at her.

Ginny's cheeks were glowing from the heat of the crowd and her own apparent irritation. "I want to go home now, Hermione," she said through clenched teeth. "I hate this," she continued on. "The crowd, the people sending sympathetic looks, this dress," she added, pulling the fabric by her hips down, as well as the neckline.

Draco watched, fascinated by the little amount of round flesh and cleavage he witnessed.

"You look beautiful," Dakotah said next to him.

He shook his head and forced himself to look away from her, finding himself looking at the Weasel's wife, who was watching him with an intense interest, as if she knew a secret about him.

"You can't go, Ginny," Hermione chimed in, not taking her eyes from Draco's visage, "Ron has already told Professor McGonagall that you'll give a short speech on behalf of Harry."

"He said what?" Ginny yelled in complete shock.

Draco watched Hermione flinch as Dakotah tightened her grasp around his forearm.

"Professor McGonagall thought it would be nice if you would give a short speech in honor of Harry," Hermione elaborated.

He allowed himself to look at Ginny, but only at her face; he was sure if he looked below her chin, he would be forced to retreat to the men's loo. High color had flooded her cheeks and her chin was wobbling from anger. "I thought I did that at Harry's funeral," she said slowly.

"Ginny," Hermione cajoled.

"Do not 'Ginny' me, Hermione! This is not fair, and you know it! How dare you people corner me into giving yet another speech in honor of Harry! How dare you corner me into even coming here!" she growled.

Hermione balked at this. "Ginny, we didn't mean for it…Harry was such an important person…"

"Don't you think I know that?" she snapped. "I know how important Harry was! I was his wife for Merlin's sake!"

When it looked as if Hermione might start talking again, Ginny started up. "No, Hermione! I've said just about all I can say! Hey, I know, here's an idea for you: you want a speech for Harry? How about you give a speech for Harry!" she shouted.

She left them standing speechless.

"Well, that was a tense moment. I guess it's true what they say about redheads then, isn't it? About their tempers…?" Draco didn't acknowledge Dakotah's open-ended question.

A few awkward moments later, Hermione made an excuse to leave. Draco didn't watch her leave to find her family. Instead, he loosened Dakotah's grip on his waist and when she finally let go, he left to find the loo.

* * *

Ginny had stopped at the refreshments table before wandering outside, onto the balcony. She leaned against the veranda's railing, sipping her meade at an alarming rate as she studied the texture of the castle's walls.

It occurred to her, when she was finishing her fourth glass of alcohol and watching couples mingling and dancing, that she was alone. She could see her mother and father from her vantage point, laughing and talking with each other.

She missed that.

Setting the glass down on the rail, she rubbed her arms. Ginny wasn't cold, she was alone. It had been so long since she'd been held by a man, since she'd felt wanted.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she imagined Draco and Dakotah doing things in their office that she hadn't done since what seemed like forever. Her heartbeat quickened as she pictured Draco's lean, naked body.

Oh, sod it Ginny! You're half drunk, otherwise you wouldn't be thinking of Draco, you bloody idiot!

A waiter came out the French doors and offered her another drink, a stronger drink this time. She took it with trembling fingers, grateful for the distraction.

"May I inquire as to what you are doing out here?" a calm voice questioned.

"Leave me alone, Draco," she responded automatically. Her voice was trembling, though not slurred yet.

He didn't leave her alone. He came to stand right in front of her. The bloody prat was looking down at her with amusement glinting in his eyes! Ginny looked away disdainfully.

"How many drinks have you had?" he prodded, somewhat gently.

Ginny shrugged; she wasn't interested in how many drinks she'd had. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"It does if you're going to get up there and talk about your husband."

"Now?" she asked, mortified at how fast the time had passed.

She could tell he was holding back on laughing. "Are you drunk, Weasley?" he asked, amusement thick in his calm voice. He leaned closer and she instinctively leaned back.

"Leave me alone," she grumbled.

"What in the hell…?"

She glared up at him. "Oh, never mind it, Malfoy. You wouldn't understand anyway." Before he could ask what it was he wouldn't understand, she was speaking again. "I hate them for doing this to me. Really, how dare they ask me to make another speech on behalf of Harry's life!"

Ginny downed the rest of her drink.

Then she turned her back to him, looking out to the Hogwarts Grounds. "I've never felt more alone in my life than I do now," she admitted quietly.

She could feel Draco move behind her.

"God," she began with tears in her voice, "everyone around me is with someone! Everyone! My parents have each other, Ron has Hermione, Bill has Fleur… hell, even you have Dakotah!" She choked back her tears. "Then there is me, left here to mourn a husband I didn't even—" she shut up abruptly.

Draco was peering down at her. "You didn't even what?" he asked curiously.

She sighed sadly and looked at her hands, clasped together. "I don't know, Draco!" Ginny started drawing circles on her arm and then brought her eyes to his. "And I feel so guilty about it all, Draco," she whispered rather mournfully. Harry was supposed to be here with me.

She felt a wayward strand of hair brush against her cheek and then she felt something a bit more human brush it back. Ginny swayed a bit; a living hand against her skin was a bit too much to handle.

At that moment, looking up at him, it didn't matter that he was Draco Malfoy or her partner. It only mattered that he was a man and he was touching her. If she had been a stronger person she wouldn't have even thought about kissing him, but the combination of alcohol and his nearness made the possibilities too tempting.

Before she lost her courage, she reached up and kissed him.

Ginny had meant for it to be a thank you kiss, because he had listened so well. She'd also meant for her heart to not become entangled, but it did, and as soon as she pressed her mouth to his.

She gripped at the sleeves of his dress robes desperately, sure she would melt through the floor if she didn't. All traces of alcohol seemed to disappear when she opened her mouth against his lips and grazed her tongue along his lower lip.

Oh hell.

Even as her mouth moved against his and she felt his arm encircle her waist, she told herself to stop and that this was dangerous territory.

But it felt too good.

It had been so long since she'd been held by someone she wasn't related to. She pressed herself to him all the more fiercely because of that.

* * *

Draco had not been expecting her to kiss him. Because of that, he hadn't been able to prepare himself for the onslaught of mixed emotions he felt as her mouth opened up to his.

Her tongue tasted like meade and something else, something stronger; her breath was hot in his mouth and he was turned on immensely.

Oh hell, he thought, even as his tongue met with hers. To steady her as well as himself—although really, it was mostly himself—he grasped about her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Ginny's body was all soft and curves against the smooth angles of his own and just as he could feel every inch of her, he knew she could feel the same. She was pressing herself tightly against him, making small noises from the back of her throat and suddenly nothing was as it was supposed to be.

Just as he began letting himself enjoy the kiss, he heard someone calling out Ginny's name, although it didn't register until the third or fourth yell.

He pushed her away then, taking care to seem unaffected by her curves and swollen mouth as the caller came into view.

Ginny's sister-in-law appeared from the shadows, looking warily between the two as if they'd been caught red-handed. It was not lost on Draco that they probably had been. If Hermione had seen anything, she remained mum on the matter, focusing her knowing gaze on Ginny. "Professor McGonagall is looking for you. It's time," Hermione told Ginny. To Draco, it sounded more like a sentencing than a friendly announcement.

He looked down on Ginny, her breasts still rising and falling rapidly, to see her nod absently. "Yes, all right."

Ginny pressed her lips together and went to join Hermione. "Thank you for listening, Draco," she murmured, her eyes avoiding his.

Draco nodded because he wasn't sure what else he should do. "Of course," he finally replied rather stupidly.

The women began walking toward the doors leading to the ballroom. Hermione stopped once, to look behind her and seemingly size Draco up. He remained calm, although his thoughts were still deadened and his blood still boiling from Ginny's kiss.

She shook her head before disappearing altogether through the doors.

Draco remained outside long after that, needing the cool air to sift through his brain so that he might collect his thoughts. He hadn't wanted to hear his partner's speech glorifying her husband's life anyway.


	11. Venice of the North

Chapter 10: _Venice of the North_

Ginny walked slowly toward the podium, trying to catch her breath as she did so. _What have I done_? Far from where it needed to be, she was afraid she left her brain out there on the balcony. Quite frankly, she was almost sure she left her heart out there too. She prayed she didn't also leave her voice.

She steadied her composure by taking a couple of deep, if not fast, breaths. Her mouth was still stinging from Draco's kiss. _My kiss. _I_ kissed him. Oh gods, what have I done? _

Somehow she reached the dais and stepped into McGonagall's place, turning to look at a sea of people.

She took her time studying the crowd and picking out the familiar faces. Surprised, she found that she knew most of the people there and even if she had never spoken to them, she recognized them as relatives of friends or friends of friends.

_Harry, I am so sorry. So unbelievably sorry. _She'd made a mess of things; she knew that now as the partiers looked up at her reverently. They were expecting to hear a soliloquy of sorts: they wanted to hear a grieving widow talk about how she still loved her husband, the Savior of the wizarding world while she was still shaky from his supposed enemy's kiss.

Ginny swallowed hard and found herself staring hard at the French doors she'd just come from. Draco wasn't in the Great Hall, he was still out there.

She leaned in to the microphone and took a deep, if not shaky breath. Their silence made her all the more nervous.

"Harry would have given anything to be here this evening," she started slowly. A few people in the audience wiped their eyes.

She closed her eyes in an effort to regain composure. She opened her eyes just in time to see her partner slip through those doors. Her gaze skittered away from him, back to her audience.

"Next week marks the eight-year anniversary of the End of the Second War. I was there, as many of you were. All of us know someone who died during the war." Her voice was quickly gaining strength, for which she was grateful. "None of us walked away unaffected from it."

With startling clarity, she saw Harry standing in front of her, a huge smile on his face. He was joined by others, friends and family who had been lost, and found, because of the war.

"I hope that when we think of the Second War, we don't only remember Harry's bravery. Harry never wanted the responsibility of saving the world; it came to him by happenstance." By now some were outright sobbing. "I hope that when we think of the war, we also remember Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Cedric Diggory, Padma Patil, Percy Weasley, Dean Thomas, Colin and Dennis Creevy as well as Horace Slughorn, Sybil Trelawney and Severus Snape."

There was a collective gasp with the mention of Snape's name, as she knew there would be. Although it wasn't well-known to the wizarding world, Snape had been carrying out a promise made to Dumbledore and Narcissa Malfoy: he had saved Draco Malfoy's life.

Some people would never be able to forgive him, though, and perhaps that was why she said his name at all.

With one last display of strength she hadn't known she possessed, she raised her chin just as some members of the audience lowered theirs in tears. She bounded off the stage just then and made way toward the exit.

Just as she was about to head out the already open doors, a tall figure stepped in front of her, blocking her exit.

Irritated, she looked up into the face of Narcissa Malfoy. Ginny just about choked on her tongue, seeing the tall, thin blonde woman regarding her coolly.

Feeling as if she ought to say or do something, anything to keep her mind occupied, Ginny started to speak but was interrupted by piercingly cold gray eyes staring her down.

Then the older woman did something completely uncharacteristic of her: she reached out and faintly touched Ginny's arm. "I want to thank you for mentioning Severus," she admonished quietly.

Ginny hoped the shock she felt wasn't written on her face.

Mrs. Malfoy was staring intently at her. "He saved my son's life," she added simply, knowing that explained it all.

At the mention of 'her son,' Ginny's heart did a strange little flip-flop. She gulped air down and nodded weakly.

Narcissa seemed to regain her composure then, realizing she was in public and speaking with a Weasley, and she nodded once in Ginny's direction. "Thank you," she said simply before moving out of Ginny's way and disappearing into the throngs of people.

Ginny rubbed her face wearily, making a mental note to never appear at another public function. Ever again.

* * *

Ginny spent the rest of the weekend in her pajamas, opting to not leave her apartment rather than spend an afternoon at the Burrow enduring inquisitorial looks from Hermione; when it was time to leave for work Monday morning, she was more than ready.

Still, she couldn't quite quell all of her nerves, try as she might.

Les met with her in the hall, walking her to her office, where Draco was already waiting, looking as bored and impatient as ever.

She avoided his gaze, feeling like a five-year-old again.

Their boss waited silently until Ginny had settled into her chair to begin speaking, turning first toward Ginny. "I must say I was pleasantly surprised to see you at the Gala Saturday night; I wasn't sure if you would make it or not," he admitted with a jovial smile.

The smile she gave was bitterer than anything, but Les seemed to accept that and blundered ahead. "That speech you gave went over really well with the crowd—what did you think of it Draco?" he asked sharply, eyeing the younger man suspiciously.

Draco shifted in his seat and as he did so, Ginny caught a glimpse of skin under the open collar of his shirt. "I was out on the veranda, sir; I didn't hear any of it."

"What were doing out on the veranda? You missed a spectacular speech!" Les exclaimed.

Her partner shot her look that seemed to ask, "_Yes, Ginny, why did I miss your speech?_"

Ginny moved in her seat and cleared her throat, bringing Les's attention back to her. "It's fine that he missed the speech, Les. It was rather impromptu anyway. It's probably better that he didn't hear it."

Les waved her off. "It was a fine speech, Ginny! In fact, I'd thought you _had _planned it in advance! If you had never told me, I wouldn't have known it was spur of the moment!"

Chuckling at that, Les's face turned a dark red before he started coughing. It was a couple of minutes before he was able to breathe properly and even then Ginny could tell he was straining himself. "I wanted to tell you two that you'll be leaving out of town for work tomorrow morning."

_Tomorrow morning? _Ginny felt her head begin to swim: she _couldn't _go away with him again, not so soon and certainly not after that kiss! She stole a glance in Draco's direction; her eyes immediately sought out his lips and she felt a slight blush creep up her neck. She had tried to not acknowledge that damn kiss all (day) Sunday, but now it was too much to avoid. _And it was one hell of a kiss_.

_Oh God_.

"I expect you'll be gone longer than before, quite possibly a week or two," Les told them. He threw them each a placating smile.

"Where will we be traveling to now?" Draco asked, although Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that he already knew where, since she was pretty sure she knew where they were headed. St. Petersburg—"

"St. Petersburg, Russia," Les replied matter-of-factly. "Don't forget to pack cool weather clothing." It was only August, but Ginny knew Russia could be cold, even at this time of the year.

Les left soon after that and Ginny was left alone with her partner.

They looked at each other, only to quickly look away.

Halfway through the day they still hadn't spoken a word to another. Ginny, who wasn't thrilled with her coworker at the moment, hated the silence that engulfed them.

She dropped her quill and put her parchment away.

Draco must have predicted the nature of her movements, for he said to her, "Don't say anything. I would rather leave well enough alone."

Ginny was taken back by this and uttered a simple, "Oh."

* * *

Draco had had a rather quiet Sunday, for which he was grateful. After that damned kiss he and Ginny had shared, he didn't want to be bothered. So he wasn't particularly concerned with Dakotah's feelings after he told her non-too-kindly where she could go when she'd invited him into her flat. Again.

So he spent his Sunday in his flat, with classical Muggle music playing low from a stereo. He had acquired a taste for a few Muggle things and classical music was one of them.

He had managed to shrug off the kiss by the evening, attributing it to drunken stupidity on her part and selfishness on his part. It had been a long while since he kissed a woman he'd been attracted to.

_Still_, he thought as he studied her sitting across from him in the office, _that was one hell of a kiss_.

And from the way she was avoiding his gaze, he knew she thought the same thing.

He wasn't surprised when, after Les left and silence consumed them for the better part of the rest of the day, he heard Ginny put her quill down.

"Don't say anything," he found himself saying. "I would rather leave well enough alone."

"Oh."

He turned around in his chair to look at her. "Can I help you Ginny?"

Her shoulders looked tense, even from where he sat. "About the other night…"

Draco didn't feel like discussing a kiss with her. Really, he didn't feel like discussing anything with her.

He raised an eyebrow to give her a critical look. "I won't mention it if you don't," he compromised, feeling generous at the moment.

Her posture visibly relaxed and Draco felt something in him deflate. "Thank you," she mouthed from where she sat.

Draco shrugged as if he didn't care and he told himself that he _didn't _care. They didn't say much else to each other for the rest of the day.

* * *

They reached St. Petersburg by noon and were all settled into the wizard hotel by one o' clock. After she'd unpacked, putting her clothes away in the dresser, she pulled on a more relaxed outfit: Muggle jeans that fit her hips nicely and a lightweight sweater. She liked the way the chocolate color of the sweater meshed with her hair.

She took a quick moment to plait her hair and when he rapped on her door softly, she was ready.

Ginny opened the door with what she hoped was an inviting smile. Their day had gone well so far. She didn't want to start a fight now.

He seemed to be taking her all in, even as he greeted her. She would have to be blind to not see his gaze drop to her mouth. _Shit._

Everything had changed for them, Ginny knew this now, although she tried to tell herself he was just Draco Malfoy and she was just Ginny Potter. They hated each other. _And actually_, she thought tiredly, _I'm not so sure we don't hate each other_.

"You could have knocked on that door," she said stupidly, motioning toward the door that connected their two rooms.

Draco gave her a quizzical look but didn't say anything before turning away, leaving her to follow him.

They walked in silence until Ginny found her voice again. "Where are we going?" she asked.

Draco took her by the crook of her arm and led her to the small Apparition port in the corner of the lobby. "I spoke with the hotel manager earlier; according to him, we can Apparate to the Czar's Lounge from here with no trouble at all," he explained simply.

"The Czar's Lounge?" she repeated dully, mildly alarmed by the name of the place. Was she dressed appropriately?

She found herself trapped between the wall and Draco. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, even with her heart thumping wildly in her ears.

"You look fine," he admonished, his voice coming from above her head.

Ginny dared not look up and so she found herself staring at his chest for the duration of their Apparition.

As soon as they stepped out of the port, Ginny was ready to hex Draco into oblivion. "I thought you said this place was casual!" she hissed.

"It _is_. The downstairs is a casual lounge, the upstairs is fine dining."

"Please tell me we're eating in the lounge."

He snorted. "Please Weasel, don't be silly. I wouldn't waste _that _kind of money on you."

She was shocked speechless.

The wench that seated them was a full, buxom woman. Ginny could have sworn she was flirting with Draco too, as she leaned over to fill their glass with water.

"Can I get you two anything else?" she offered, although she was looking directly at Draco.

"I'll have the Dragon's Blood and just water for the lady," he answered her brusquely, not looking at Ginny to see if she wanted anything to drink.

"Excuse me?"

He didn't take his eyes off the menu. "What is it now, Weasley?"

"Don't I get more than water to drink?" she sputtered.

"Don't be foolish Ginny. We all know what happens when _you _drink," he said dryly.

Despite her best intentions, her face colored to what she knew was an alarming shade of red. "How dare you say that!" she challenged furiously when she'd felt her coloring go down just a bit.

He finally conceded to looking up at her. "What? You _can't_ drink, Ginny, you do stupid things."

She was absolutely incensed. "And what about you? I may have been the one to start the kiss but you didn't exactly put an end to things!"

If he had been planning a retort, she would never know. A palpable silence fell upon them.

_There. I said it, _she told herself. _One of us has to be mature about it. Oh hell, on second thought: no, one of us does _not _have to be mature about it_.

Instead of following along that same topic of conversation, Ginny sighed and announced rather weakly, "I'm just going to get a drink."

He didn't argue with her and in fact, ordered her a Dragon's Blood simply because she'd never had one. Also, he figured that if they were going to be around each other today at all, they would need all the alcohol they could get.

He wasn't sure if it was interest, alcohol or stupidity (although more than likely it was a combination of the three), but it looked as though Ginny _had_ to ask him, once again, what he was doing with Harry the night before Harry died.

"You're going to be a nuisance about this, aren't you?" he snapped back.

Ginny stared hard at him, apparently because she couldn't decide if she hated or loathed him. "Fine," she replied hotly. "Then at least tell me why someone wanted Harry dead. And how they succeeded," she added.

"Do you have to know everything?"

"If it involves me, yes."

"It doesn't involve you."

She grimaced. "Of course it does. Harry and I were married, Draco, don't you understand that? When you're married to someone y—"

"I don't need you to explain marriage to me, thank you kindly," he interjected sarcastically.

"Well then you should know why I need to know what happened to Harry," she spoke earnestly.

She gave him the look of death and waited for him to speak.

* * *

Draco settled back in his chair and took a long sip of the Dragon's Blood, enjoying the way the red hot liquid filled his gut languidly.

_Careful now, don't tell her too much_.

The grandfather clock chimed three. They'd only been there a little over an hour.

"How were you involved with Harry?" she inquired. She raised the mug of Dragon's Blood to her mouth and it hovered in the air there, waiting for his answer. Her eyes bore into his.

Draco's gaze swept the length of the room to make sure they were not within anyone's earshot.

"I am my father's son," he muttered.

Ginny spit her drink back into the mug. "Excuse me?" she asked between choked coughs.

He took his time answering her, hoping for an easier way out. None was found. "The person who killed Harry did so because Harry put my father in Azkaban." He was deliberately slow, taking his own time to taste the words for the first time out loud.

She was looking at him with curiosity. "I don't understand why we're _here _then, shouldn't we be looking for the murderer?"

Draco chugged the rest of his drink down before answering her. This conversation was much too serious for his liking.

"We don't know who killed Harry, but we do think the person who killed him was the culprit in _your _cases. We feel they were drawing you two across the globe in order to catch Harry at a weak moment."

Ginny seemed to consider this, her fingers tapping against the table and her eyes sparkling with thoughts. "We caught the person involved in each of those cases," she told him eventually.

"We don't think you did," he countered.

"Who is this 'we'?" she inquired.

"Dakotah, Les and I," he answered her truthfully.

There was a pause in their dialogue as each took a drink from their mugs. Draco was sure he was going to need another one as soon as this was done.

"Why are you here, Draco?" she asked when she was done swallowing.

"We have reason to believe the person behind all of these cases, your husband's included, is someone I know. A relative or a close family friend, perhaps," he replied truthfully. It made him mad as hell to know he wasn't quite able to rid himself of the Malfoy name. After this was all done he swore he would leave England and never return.

She nodded, as if accepting his response as earnest. "Alright, that makes sense," she said out loud, slowly musing over this.

"Do you have any ideas as to who it is?"

"Unfortunately, no," he replied sincerely.

The bar maid came back, asking if there was anything else she could get for them. Wisely, Draco said no, they were fine. But thank you.

When the woman was out of their line of sight, Draco cocked his head and studied Ginny.

Her head was down as she seemed focused on her finger nails. Looking at her hands Draco had a fleeting thought of those fingers clutching at his dress robes almost desperately as they kissed.

_Almost desperately_, he repeated, realizing what that meant. _She's still out of your reach. _

He shook his head but couldn't peel his eyes from her. There was something about her…plainness that he couldn't quite put his finger on; it was what made her beautiful. _To an extent. She still married Potter._

Subconsciously, he let out a low but loud enough growl, and Ginny looked away from her fingernail and up at him with large brown eyes.

_Neither of us should be allowed to drink in the presence of the other_, he mused.

"Maybe we should get back to work…?" she suggested with a smile on her face. She looked amused.

Draco nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes of course."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day traveling by foot around the city, talking amicably with each other. Ginny was surprised to find herself laughing at something Draco said or did more than once. She enjoyed his half-humorous, half-sarcastic jokes. They reminded her a little of Ron's attitude at times.

As they walked the length to Saint Isaac's Cathedral, Ginny marveled at the grandeur of the church, which looked more like a palace than a place of worship, she thought, although she'd never attended a place of worship other than for Ron and Hermione's wedding.

"It's rather grand, isn't it?"

Ginny nodded. "It is that and more," she agreed.

There were secrets in that building, she knew. "A Muggle was murdered there," she whispered.

She wasn't surprised when he didn't answer. "Of course, you must have known this already," she said lightly.

"Dakotah had mentioned it."

The fact that he didn't offer more information up irritated Ginny. "Draco, wait!" she demanded, stopping dead in her tracks. He stopped and looked back at her.

"I thought you said you wanted to work?"

Without realizing it, she started chewing on her lip. "What exactly _is _Dakotah to you?"

"Does it matter?"

_No! _"Of course not; I'd just like to know if you're shagging our boss, is all! Especially if you are doing it in our office."

He bristled. "It's none of your business." He began walking toward the cathedral again and Ginny followed after him, hating herself for playing follow the leader.

She didn't notice the way people started scattering around them or how the air suddenly seemed cooler than it had before, even as a forewarning chill ran down her spine.

Before she could wrap her mind around any of this, Draco shoved her into an alleyway, pressing her body between the hard brick wall of a building and his lean body.

Her heart was nearly hammering out of her chest and every sense was being accosted. She saw stars behind her closed eyelids, heard the shouting coming from the street and sidewalk. _Where we had been_. She felt his heartbeat against her face and could smell his skin and cologne.

"Shit, Ginny." His voice was muffled by her hair but she felt reassured knowing he was there.

Somehow she managed to disentangle herself from his none too gentle embrace. "What the hell happened?"

Draco pulled away from her and tugged at her arm, pulling her out from the safety of the alley.

The street was utter chaos: people ran this way and that. Muggle police cars were pulling up, tires screeching as they came to a dead halt. A woman was kneeling in the street, sobbing into her hands.

Dread welled up inside of Ginny as she realized the thing the woman hovered over was a body. "Oh, God." Tears welled up in her eyes for the man.

She remained still while Draco stepped into the sidewalk and looked around for anything, any_one_, who might be guilty.

Mutely, Ginny surveyed the scene around her, comprehension dawning with each second. She had been standing approximately where the man was now lying. She could have been him.

Draco, still silent, made his way back to her, grabbing her hand as he did so and pulling her the opposite direction of St. Isaac's. She tried protesting but was too stunned to do so properly.

The came to a stop only when they were once again standing in front of the Czar's Lounge; Draco gave her a hard look.

"What happened back there?" she asked, barely above a whisper. She understood that if anyone knew they had been there, hell would be theirs.

He glanced around furtively, finally resting his sight upon her. She followed his gazes, feeling quite unsure and suddenly unsafe.

Draco brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered in barely perceptible words, "The Killing Curse."


	12. Sinful

Chapter 11: _Sinful_

Draco had immediately pulled her into his hotel room. The drapes were thrown against the windows as soon as the door was shut and locked behind them.

Ginny shivered in the darkness, her eyes following his every movement. "_Lumos_," he whispered and the tip of his wand glowed, dimly lighting the room.

She was still shaking from nerves.

"Who knows we're here?" he asked finally.

Her eyes fluttered shut. "No one, other than Les and Dakotah." She knew the implications that held.

When he was silent for a long time, Ginny reopened her eyes and studied his darkened profile. He was standing next to the closed window, the wand's light dancing across the fabric of the drapes and his trousers.

"You didn't tell anyone about coming here?" he queried.

Ginny could tell he was suspicious in the way his eyes narrowed. "Of course not!" she answered indignantly. "What do you think I did? Told everyone who had a vendetta against me that I was traveling to St. Petersburg so that they might take a cheap shot at me using the Killing Curse? I think not!"

"Would you shut up!" he hissed. "You have no idea who could be listening!"

She wanted to continue arguing but wisely kept her mouth shut. Draco was right: she couldn't possibly know who was 'accidentally' overhearing their argument in the corridor or other rooms.

"Good," he said approvingly when he saw that she wasn't going to open her mouth again. "Now," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the bed with him.

Ginny's heart stopped the moment his hand touched hers. He seemed to realize what he was doing a moment too late because his hand dropped hers just as they sat down. She licked her lips and cursed at herself for feeling weak all of the sudden. Now was not the time to be feeling weak!

"Now," he repeated, "who knows we're here?"

"Just Les and Dakotah! I already told you I didn't tell anyone else where we would be…not even my mother!"

He pressed his face into his hands. Ginny could tell by his posture that he was weary.

"Let's just call it a day, shall we?" she suggested. "Sleep might do us both good."

Draco raised his eyes to meet hers and something dark flashed in them. She shivered, wondering how deep that darkness was that shaded his gray eyes. He nodded then, removing his gaze from her face. "Goodnight then," he said softly.

Ginny nodded as she stood up, looking down at him fondly. He was looking up at her with unfamiliar warmth in his eyes.

She found herself gulping down as much air as she could. She managed to leave his room without making a total idiot of herself.

* * *

Although he hadn't slept more than two hours throughout the night -- too many things were weighing down his shoulders -- Draco was very much awake at seven o'clock in the morning.

"_Promise me that you'll watch out for her if anything happens to me," Harry's voice was low and even though it was quiet on the street beneath Harry's flat window, Draco had to strain to listen to him._

"_Don't be so melodramatic," he responded darkly._

_Their gazes locked. Draco's, a steel gray one of indifference, while Harry's was imploring. "Someone will need to look after her," Harry continued. "Even if you could do something as simple as making sure the rent is paid."_

Draco couldn't remember whether or not they had settled on anything by the end of their meeting -- the next day Harry had been murdered. Two weeks later, Draco had paid for her rent and he'd paid the next six months rent as well: he had more money than he knew what to do with.

And now, almost a year later, he was imagining sliding his fingers across her bare skin. He was truly a revolting example of a man.

He was somewhat shocked when the door between their rooms opened to reveal Ginny's face. "I was hoping you were awake," she said rather shyly.

"You should have knocked," Draco replied irritably.

She nodded apologetically. "Yes, I'm sorry for that. I heard you stir though and well, I'm not really sure why I thought that meant you were awake."

"I might have been standing here in nothing but a towel," he shot back.

Ginny's eyes widened. "Yes, well, you aren't, so I guess that's not something we need to worry about now, is it?"

Draco regarded her carefully, making sure he was keeping his cool even though she looked completely and thoroughly kissable.

_I blame that damn kiss. If she hadn't done that, I wouldn't be thinking inappropriate thoughts about a woman who's slept with Harry Potter_.

"Yes Draco?" she asked in a tiny voice, interrupting his silent thoughts.

He turned so that he wasn't looking directly at her. He couldn't think straight when he was looking at her. "I think we should tour the city today," he said finally.

"Tour the city?" She wasn't able to mask the confusion in her voice.

He nodded. "Yes, tour the city and then find a different hotel. This one is probably being watched."

She came to stand further in the room and Draco caught a whiff of her perfume with her movement. "We're here on business. Does Les agree with this? Does he think we should tour the city?"

At that moment, Draco turned to face her. "Ginny, I haven't corresponded with Les on this matter. I think it's the safest course of action. No one is going to be throwing random Killing Curses, or any curses for that matter, at a couple of tourists."

"But we're not just a couple of tourists," she pointed out, as if he didn't know that.

"Yes, thank you for your input," he said dryly.

Ginny rolled her eyes but didn't argue further. "Fine, just let me get dressed for going out. I'll be ready in a jiffy."

_In a jiffy_, she had said. Draco smiled to himself, thinking of her.

* * *

When lunchtime rolled around, Ginny found herself seated happily across from Draco at a very-Muggle tavern. The food was bland and the drinks were more water than tea, but Ginny found herself having a better time with Draco than she could have ever imagined.

They had walked around the city all day, the exercise keeping them warm, though Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't just the exercise keeping her warm, at the very least. Even through her laughter, Ginny was trying to gauge his thoughts and feelings. He was smiling back at her, but his smile and eyes were guarded. _I wonder what he's hiding._

Draco was gracious enough to pay for their meal and when they left the tiny pub, his hand was on the small of her back. She tried to tell herself he was only being polite and gentleman-like, but couldn't quite manage to suppress the small waves of pleasure that seemed to emanate from his fingertips.

As soon as they were out on the street again, his hand dropped from her back. She immediately missed the warmth of his hand pressing against her.

"Well, Ginny, what do you think of this city when you're not here working?" he asked casually, looking down into her eyes.

By now they had stopped walking. The look in his eyes was of such intensity and meaning that Ginny wondered if he would kiss her here. She _wanted_ him to kiss her. But she focused her energy on answering his question. She had to, so that she didn't trip over her words.

"It really is a beautiful city. I'm afraid when Harry and I were here, we weren't able to stop and enjoy all there is to offer. I never noticed the history here," she admitted quietly, a hint of nostalgia in her words.

All around them people were laughing and chatting in a language Ginny couldn't understand. As she continued to look up at him, the voices faded away and she was sure, _so_ sure(,) that he would kiss her, when she witnessed his eyes dropping to her mouth.

To say that she felt alive in his presence would be an understatement. She felt…completely destroyed. _Yes, that's the word. He's destroyed everything I've ever thought about him. He's not the man I thought he was._

She was sorely disappointed when he turned from her and continued walking on. "Come on, Ginny," he said when he noticed she didn't follow him. "What are you waiting for?"

_I have no idea_, she thought sadly.

"Where are we going?" she asked, forcing herself to think of something other than the feelings dancing around her heart. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, was it? She was supposed to be working with Draco, no, _Malfoy_, to find Harry's murderer. She was most definitely not supposed to be entertaining scandalous thoughts about _Malfoy_.

"I thought we'd stay at the _Matisov Domik_," he answered flippantly as if she was supposed to know that.

"What's that?" she asked. She didn't know any Russian and barely recognized the names of businesses and tourist attractions.

"A hotel," he answered. His cocked his head looking at her and she suddenly felt foolish. Of course it was a hotel, how daft was she that she didn't even know that?

"You're going to tell me that you've never heard of it before? You and your husband came here before and you didn't stay at the _Matisov Domik_?" he asked incredulously.

Ginny's eyes narrowed on him. "No, we did not. Not everyone can waste a day at work lolling about the city sightseeing." She was mildly offended and quite sure he was totally aware of that.

"Oh come off your high horse and follow me," he directed. She hadn't missed the dark cloud that passed across his features.

She sighed and followed him despite herself.

* * *

They were settled into their hotel room, a cozy two-bedroom suite with a common room between them within the hour. Much to Ginny's surprise, as well as suspicion, their luggage was waiting for them on the sofa next to the window. _So he had known all along where we were going. We weren't simply sightseeing_.

"Can Liaisons afford all this?" she asked with a sweeping motion of her hand in the air.

Draco shrugged, keeping his back to her. "I have no idea and frankly, I don't care. I'm paying for it out of my own pocket."

Ginny couldn't help the slight gasp that escaped her mouth.

He tossed her a strange look but said nothing.

"What if Les or Dakotah need to get a hold of us?" she asked. "Or do they know we're here?" When he remained silent, she went up to him and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to turn and face her.

"They don't know we're here, do they?" Her voice fell flat between them. She didn't even notice that her hands were still holding his shoulders.

Draco reached up and put his hands over hers, only to remove them quickly. "You don't get it, do you? If you didn't tell anyone we were coming here and if I didn't, then Dakotah or Les did. No one else but us four knows we are here, so it must have been one of them." She heard his patience wane in the tightness of his voice. "In other words, one of them attempted to kill you yesterday."

She gulped and forced herself to continue looking at him, even though she knew her next words would sting. "Or _you_ did," she said after a moment.

What could only be described as total and complete fury crossed his face and she instantly regretted saying such a horrible thing. He was her partner, for God's sake! She was supposed to completely trust him.

"Don't be so daft," he said finally, although it seemed he wanted to say much, much more.

Before she could apologize for her rude comment, Draco had walked off into his bedroom. She didn't follow him.

* * *

Draco spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening mulling things over. To think that she had actually implied that _he'd_ been the one to give her over to that wizard or witch!

"The ungrateful little wench," he growled, tossing his head back while gulping down the last of the Russian vodka he'd ordered up to his room.

It was bad enough that his last name was _Malfoy…_must he always be reminded of what people thought of him before he had…before he had what? Changed? Draco wasn't sure about how much he'd changed. He was no longer the sixteen-year-old bastard who'd been foolish enough to want to please his father. No, he'd since tried to make a name for himself _without _his father's sinister connections.

Well what else did he expect from a _Weasel_, really? And one that'd married that tosser Potter, too! Of course, he secretly thought any of the Weasleys would have married Potter if he'd asked.

Still, there had been times today, when they were out walking, that he swore she was weaving a magical sort of enchantment around him, one that used no magic at all. He'd cursed himself multiple times during the day for even looking at her because when he did, he was reminded of everything he'd missed out on.

_Like having a family_. There was a time in Italy when settling down with a woman and having a home and children with her hadn't seemed like such an obscene wish. Irene had been a hard-working Ministry woman in her native country. Not only had she been driven and independent, but beautiful as well. And so willing to share everything she had with him.

He wondered whatever happened to her. They had not parted on good terms, because of him. Draco had thrown everything she offered back in her face, except for sex. He really had been a despicable ass.

That had been long ago though and he was now a long way from Irene and Italy. Instead, he was much closer to Ginny Potter.

Draco thought that he should never have agreed to look after Ginny in the event Harry died. _I never even _told _Harry I would. I just assumed the responsibility. I could walk away right now if I wanted to, and never look back_. Trouble was, Draco wasn't so sure he wanted to walk away.

* * *

Ginny had practically forced herself to fall asleep and although it had been hard at first, she'd just woken up from an erotic dream. Draco had been in it.

_There is absolutely no way I can work with him, having this thing hanging between us. We both know we kissed. _She shivered thinking of that kiss. _And now I'm fantasizing about him. This can't possibly be good for my health_.

She tried to shake the feelings of guilt she was having over what she'd said to him earlier today, but was unsuccessful. Ginny bit her lip and stood, knowing exactly what she had to do.

She found her way easily through her bedroom and the common area to his door and rapped softly.

Draco opened the door almost immediately, looming above her with a dark look in his eyes. It was, in fact, not unlike the look he had in her dream. _Stop thinking of that_, she told herself even as embarrassment colored her cheeks.

He was watching her with a slightly bored look.

"I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier," she finally made herself say.

"Oh?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, Draco. I -- well, _we_ really, we had a good day today, didn't we? I had a pleasant time with you and you really…you are right. And I know that you would never slip on our whereabouts when we're…away." There, she'd said what she came to say, however awkwardly. _So why aren't I moving?_

"I must have woken you up," she finally stated, noting for the first time the drowsy look on his face. "I'm sorry. I'll just be going now," she said as she made to walk away from him. Before she could even make a step, Draco had his hand on her elbow.

Ginny's confused eyes sought out his hand on her elbow first and then his ardent gaze. The heat that was in his silver eyes made Ginny's heart tremble and longing start up deep within her core.

She couldn't help but look at his mouth. "Draco," she found herself saying quickly, "I'm going to kiss you in five seconds unless you tell me not to."

Draco raised one of his eyebrows.

Ginny's eyes fluttered shut. _One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand_… "Why haven't you told me not to yet?" she asked, daring to open her eyes to look at him.

He dropped his face close to hers. "Who says I don't want you to?"

She made herself continue to look at him in the eye. It was a silent challenge between the two of them, she understood. They were daring one another to cross some line they'd drawn between themselves. They were daring one another to go first.

"I'm Harry Potter's widow," she said for reasons unknown to her.

A thin, small smile played upon his lips. "I'm trying hard to ignore that fact," he replied, half-jokingly but mostly serious.

"I'm a Weasley," she told him breathlessly, as if he didn't know.

Draco raised a strong hand and brushed lightly against her cheek bone. "Another fact I'm trying hard to ignore," he told her in a whisper.

Ginny was acutely aware of the electricity between them. It had been there since their first meeting and growing steadily since that day.

When his hand moved from the planes of her cheek to the nape of her neck, where his fingers tangled in her long red hair, she thought she might die from the pure pleasure of it all.

Draco brought his mouth down to her ear, the skin of their cheeks nearly touching. His finger ran through her hair at a pleasant speed. His hands were tangling her hair.

His fingers in her hair felt _so _good. She couldn't remember anything else ever making her feel so alive. Something this good ought to be sinful.

She extracted herself from his warm grasp, immediately missing the steady warmth he offered. Her eyes lowered to her hands. Her breathing was ragged and truthfully, she wasn't all that positive that she would live if he didn't kiss her now.

"Am I supposed to kiss you now?" she whispered feverishly.

"I thought you said you were going to."

"So why aren't I?"

Draco brought his mouth tantalizingly close to hers. "Because it's _my _turn."

And before she knew what hit her, his mouth was covering hers with a slow but torturous force. His hands pulled her mouth closer, pulling at the hair at the nape of her neck. A noise formed in the back of her throat, one that she couldn't help but release.

He backed her up against the doorframe, kissing her harder.

Through the thick haze of her mind Ginny was acutely aware of how different his kiss felt from Harry's.

Draco's tongue gently prodded her mouth open and all thoughts of Harry fled her mind. Sizzling heat filled her body.

* * *

"Because it's _my _turn," he promised her. He had told himself that first kiss was a mistake, a curse even, but this one…this one was a blessing.

Kissing her was like drinking from the fountain of life. She was his life force, and he backed her up against the doorframe in order to get even closer to her.

Draco let his mouth lead him and it led his tongue straight to hers.

Their tongues slid together in one blissful harmonious movement. Vaguely, Draco wondered if lovemaking with her would be this exhilarating. Somehow, he didn't think so. He thought it would be more so.

Draco took the bits and pieces of her she was offering with each fevered kiss. She had opened her mouth fully against his, nearly driving him insanely over the edge.

He wasn't sure how they ended up where they were and right now, as his hand went through her long hair, and he didn't care.

Ginny was the one to pull away first. Her eyes were bright with the things left unspoken and feelings untouched. Although it was hard, Draco forced himself to let go of her.

"What are we doing?" she asked. Her voice was breathless and Draco felt something in him waver.

For once he felt unsure.

Contrary to his normal self, Draco was at a complete loss of words. Draco could only think one thought, one he wasn't about to proclaim. _Don't go_.

Then Ginny had his face between her hands and her mouth was on his as if she owned it. Owned _him_. Truth was she might have owned him as she pulled him into his hotel room, pulling and spinning him until he landed on his bed with her body pressed down against his.

Draco let his hands wander across the planes of her body, atop her clothing, as she continued kissing him wildly. He was going to die tonight, he just knew it…

* * *

Something primal had overtaken her, she would tell herself many hours later, sitting in the silence of the flat she and Harry had shared. But between now and that time, she'd forced him onto his bed and forced herself upon him. In fact, if it hadn't been for the persistent tapping on the window, Ginny was sure she would have taken things too far.

For her hands were tangling in his long blonde locks just as his sought out the hem on the fitted sweater she was wearing, and neither was willing to give up on this flame of heat so soon.

Ginny had honestly tried ignoring the _tap, tap, tap_ on the windowpane, but it soon became so loud and _demanding_ that she had to roll off of him and go answer that blasted noise.

It wasn't without fear that she untied the small parchment from the tiny owl's leg. In fact, it was with outright trepidation.

By the time she'd read the thing three times, Draco was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder and reading the note.

_Ginny. I had to send the new Liaisons owl with you. I trust that you got this O.K. You and Draco must hurryhome. It's Les. He's dead. –Dakotah_


	13. Coming to a Head

Chapter 12: _Coming to a Head_

Ginny gaped at the note. _Not Les_!

Behind her, Draco laid his hand on the middle of her back, moving it back and forth in a comforting gesture; nothing like the touching and caressing that had been going on just three minutes ago.

She shifted her weight to her other foot and found herself wrapped in Draco's warm embrace.

It felt good to be held like this, to be comforted. She clutched his shirt as the tears fell, dampening her cheeks. Ginny hadn't had anyone to comfort her like this after she'd been told about Harry's death. She'd been all alone at that time and hadn't told her mother until hours later.

She sniffled and pulled away from him, only slightly embarrassed that he could see her swollen red eyes and red nose.

Draco placed his hands on her cheeks and brushed away a tear from each eye. She was momentarily blindsided by more tears with this uncharacteristic act of feeling on Draco's part.

She was quick to draw in a shaky breath. As she exhaled, she smiled weakly up at him.

He released her face immediately, his hands dropping to his sides. "Well then, I suppose we need to get back, don't we?" he said.

Ginny nodded, swallowing more tears and the feeling that _something_ was off.

Within twenty minutes, they were standing outside the Building of Dangerous Liaisons, both looking through the glass doors with a great sense of trepidation.

Draco was the one to urge her on inside the building and she went in feeling as if she was wearing lead weights for shoes instead of white sneakers.

The first person she saw was her brother Ron. He was moving his wand over the doorframes--checking to see if any of the protective charms were broken, no doubt. He nodded at Draco and then focused on Ginny. "Took you long enough," he noted gruffly, averting his eyes from hers.

"What's going on?" she asked sharply, unable to contain her fear any longer.

Ron looked up at her sharply. "Didn't Dakotah owl you? She told me she did…Les was killed, Ginny." His tone turned soft at that and there was real empathy in his deep blue eyes. He knew how fond Ginny was of Les.

"I know that part! I mean, what's going on in the investigation?" she queried.

The fact that Draco stayed by her side the entire time was not lost on her, and apparently not on Ron either, who kept shooting Draco the death stare.

"Right now all we have to go on is what Dakotah has told us. She didn't see anything, but she sort of…ah, how should I put this? She _stumbled_ into the scene of the crime."

Ginny winced at her brother's words. The phrase 'scene of the crime' just didn't mix with the building she had worked at for more than three years time. "How is she doing?" she asked, concerned about her friend's welfare.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, Hermione came in, in Medi-witch mode, and I haven't been able to speak to her since. So I'm checking the parameters for any breaks in the security system."

"Have you found anything?"

Her brother looked between the partners, sighing first and then shaking his head. "No, I haven't found anything out of the ordinary. Say Ginny, why don't you go find Hermione? I'd like to speak to Malfoy alone, if you don't mind."

With eyebrows raised, Ginny turned to Draco and saw him nod, then looked back disbelievingly at Ron, who also nodded. "I'm an Auror, Ginny, not a murderer," he finally said darkly.

She shrugged then and went ahead to find Hermione.

All around her, Aurors were swarming the place. Her co-workers were there too, although none of them were helping much. According to Carolinia Douglass, the office had been officially closed when Les was murdered.

"Where's Dakotah?" she whispered, feeling the need to speak to Dakotah directly.

Carolinia pointed down the hall. "Last time I saw, she was headed toward the Ladies' loo."

Ginny touched the older woman's arm in thanks and went to the loo, bumping into a disgruntled Hermione on the way. Hermione looked surprised, but also relieved, that Ginny was there.

"I don't suppose you had any inkling of this happening, did you?" she asked. Her brown eyes were filled with concern.

"No, nothing," she replied truthfully. It hurt her to know that she hadn't been able to save Les.

Hermione sighed. "I suppose it's just as well. Dakotah is in there, you should probably go talk to her. She's pretty upset."

Ginny nodded and went further into the loo.

Dakotah's normally happy, slightly ditzy look had been worn away and she looked…forlorn. She was leaning against the wall wearing blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, something Ginny had never seen her in before.

She went over to Dakotah and stood in front of her, searching her face for any sort of clue as to what she was feeling. Dakotah's pretty face was lifeless.

"Dakotah?" Ginny hedged softly. She didn't want to startle her.

Her large blue eyes flickered and so Ginny knew she'd heard her, but the rest of her countenance didn't change. "Dakotah, what happened?" she asked finally.

The woman looked at her then, fully in the eyes. "I'd only just got home when I realized I'd left my briefcase in my office…I'm flighty like that sometimes…and just, oh god!" She buried her head in her hands and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Ginny pulled her close and hugged her, rubbing her back in the soothing manner Draco had only an hour earlier. "Then what?" she asked, knowing she might be able to glean important details from her that her brother and sister-in-law weren't able to.

Dakotah continued to sob silently, hiccupping when she was finally done. Almost methodically, she left Ginny's embrace and went to the sink, splashing cold water on her face and then performing an appearance charm that took the redness away from her eyes and nose.

When she was facing Ginny once again, she was much calmer. "I had seen the light was still on in Les's office so I decided to go up and see him. I found him up there. There weren't any clues…there were no signatures. There was absolutely nothing."

Ginny shivered at her words: It had been the same way with Harry. No clues, no wand residue. There hadn't been the telltale signature so many homicidal wizards and witches were fond of leaving. To put it simply, there was nothing that in and of itself was a clue.

Ginny didn't voice her opinion though and instead led Dakotah out of the loo. The first person she noticed within the throngs of others was Draco. He was looking straight at her and Dakotah.

Ron was the first to approach them though. He came holding a roll of parchment and an Auror's quill, a device that, when held, forced the user to sign his or her _exact _name and _only _his or her own name. He came to stand in front of Dakotah, holding out the quill to her, which she received with a trembling hand.

"Please read through the statements, Mrs. Prior, and then sign your name at the bottom to verify they are all correct," Ron said in a very formal tone, one that Ginny was happy she had never had the misfortune of hearing.

As his only witness, Dakotah was a valuable source. Ron would make sure everything he got from her was correct.

Dakotah read through the scroll, nodding at some parts and shuddering at others. When she was finally done she gulped and nodded. "State your full name and age before signing, please," Ron requested icily.

"Dakotah A. Prior, age 31." She pressed the quill to the parchment and attempted to sign it, but no ink flowed through it.

"Repeat your name, please. No initials this time, Dakotah," Ron added quietly.

"Dakotah Angrboda Prior," she announced in a strong voice. This time, the quill was more than willing to sign her name.

She gave the parchment and quill back to Ron with a steadier hand than she received it. Then she collapsed on the floor.

* * *

Ginny didn't get a chance to speak with Draco alone for the rest of the evening, for he stayed at the office while she went to St. Mungo's with Dakotah. She sat in one of the stiff waiting room chairs until Hermione interrupted her blank stare.

Hermione waved a Styrofoam cup in front of Ginny's face. "Here. It's Essence of Orange tea. Rather weak, in my opinion, but it'll quench your thirst."

"Thank you," she replied, taking the cup from Hermione's hands.

Hermione dropped down in the seat next to hers. "Dakotah will be fine. She's just stressed out."

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. Her mind was in a totally different place, one far from the hospital. She couldn't help but relive those moments before the Liaison's owl had interrupted them.

"I'd like to talk to you about something," Hermione admitted softly. Her hands were fidgeting with a loose thread on the upholstery of the chair.

"Oh? What's that?"

Hermione hesitated for only a moment, but it was a long one. "I don't know a better way to say this, so I'm just going to come out and say it, all right? What's going on between you and Malfoy?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ginny blurted out defensively.

"I think you know _exactly _what it is I'm talking about, Gin. I saw you snogging him at the Gala last week." Disappointment was evident in her voice as well as her eyes, large and worried.

Ginny looked away, feeling embarrassed and then guilty, although she told herself she needn't be. "Mind your own business, Hermione," she warned. On edge as she was, she sprang to her feet and began pacing in front of their seats.

"What about Harry?" Hermione finally asked, barely above a whisper.

Ginny whirled around to face Hermione. "What about Harry?" she reiterated spitefully. "He's dead, Hermione. Dead!" Anger and bitterness swelled up in her breast. "Am I the only one that understands that?" she asked weakly.

Hermione stood up with her hands on her hips. "Of course you're not the only one who knows that! I just want to know what the _hell _you're doing snogging _Malfoy_, of all people!"

For a moment, Ginny was too shocked to say anything. Hermione never, ever swore. She was always riding Ron's back for swearing and now she was doing it herself? Ginny bristled and turned to walk away from her sister-in-law. It wasn't long before Hermione was walking right next to her though, matching her step for step.

"You know what Hermione? Maybe you're right: maybe I _have _lost my marbles. After all, I was snogging Draco Malfoy. You know what else? For once in my life I was doing something for _me_, not for anyone else and it felt pretty damn good." Her steps slowed down as she felt her anger dwindle, replaced by weariness.

"I will always love Harry. I hope you know that," she whispered.

They came to stand before a window at the end of the long hallway. Around them, Medi-witches and wizards were coming and going, but for once, they weren't paying attention to either Hermione or Ginny. It felt good to be inconsequential, Ginny mused.

She brought her hand up to the glass and placed it there, her palm flat against the pane. "Being married to Harry wasn't always the easiest thing, Hermione."

By now, Hermione was leaning against the adjacent wall with her arms crossed over her chest. She was listening intently, for which Ginny was grateful.

"I loved him, I really did," she repeated quietly, almost desperately. "But it was so _hard _sometimes, Hermione." She looked at Hermione and then lowered her eyes, feeling almost ashamed of herself. "He was such a wonderful man, but the world knew him better than I did. I swear to you, he was more likely to tell Rita Skeeter what he was feeling than say it to me--and you know how much he disliked her."

Hermione cocked her head, giving Ginny a pointed look. "You don't really believe that, do you Ginny?"

Ginny shrugged absently. "Sometimes I think I do. Right now I do."

Outside, life was going on. People were walking the streets laughing and waving to one another. Below a streetlight, a mum was shaking her fist at her young son as he looked down to the ground sadly.

"I can't tell you how good it felt to be held by someone Hermione, rather than holding someone," she continued quietly. "There were nights when Harry and I would come home and even though we had the same bad experience, I was comforting him. I can count on my fingers the number of times Harry held me after confronting a murderer or a dead child."

Hermione remained silent, which was fine really, because what was there to say?

"Those few times he did hold me during a panic attack his mind was always elsewhere. He was back at the scene of the crime. And Harry had seen so much in his lifetime that I didn't want to be a burden to him. So, I tried getting over the attacks as quickly as possible," she explained reasonably, as if she was giving out a new recipe and not her heart.

"With Draco, the times he kissed me…" Ginny fumbled for the words. How could she explain what Draco made her feel in a way that wouldn't offend Hermione?

She felt Hermione reach out and touch her arm. "Go on," she urged gently.

Ginny nodded and swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "He didn't…we weren't…comforting each other. We were simply kissing. It felt good to be _wanted_ like that." Even though it wasn't exactly what she'd wanted to say, she meant the words.

A little fearfully, she looked to Hermione for a reaction.

Her sister-in-law looked back. She was quiet for a long time. "I can't blame you for wanting to feel those things, Gin," she finally said. "Everyone wants to feel alive."

Ginny nodded, more grateful for Hermione's reaction and acceptance than the other woman would ever know.

* * *

Les's funeral was held four days later, on a Saturday. It was an outdoor service on what was to be one of the last warm days of the summer-fall season before it turned cold out. Ginny sat far in the back, not wanting to be so near another casket so soon. Besides, the entire front three rows were filled with Les's family and close friends.

Ron and Hermione had come with her, to offer moral support as well as mourn a man they liked, although they didn't know him as well.

Ginny was shocked when she saw her partner, dressed to the nines in long, flowing forest green robes, make his way up to the podium. His hair, which fell just below his shoulders, was pulled back with a thin green strip of fabric.

She hadn't seen him in four days and she was rather confused at her heart's reaction. It thumped and pounded wildly despite her best efforts to calm it.

Ginny had to force herself to listen in order to hear what he was saying.

"Those of you who know me are aware I rarely speak at public functions. If I had been asked a year ago to speak, I would have declined, and probably not in a polite way. But this isn't a year ago, this is now."

She imagined that he was lingering on her. His eyes weren't, but she wanted to believe his heart was.

"I will be the first to say Les gave me a chance when no one else did, even though he probably shouldn't have. For that I am eternally grateful." Draco stepped off the podium and took his seat back.

Ginny felt her heart constrict, and then her throat, and she sat through the rest of the service in a silent haze.

* * *

Draco made his way through the crowd toward Les's family: his wife Teresa and children, Henry, Valerie, and Suzanne. Teresa saw him and smiled softly. She was a quiet, small woman. Very kind. And when she smiled and waved, Draco simply nodded back.

He made it to the refreshment table without running into Ginny. She looked up at him, her brown eyes blinking in the bright afternoon sun. "I wanted to let you know…that was a beautiful speech you gave."

Draco didn't know why but he bristled under the compliment. "I didn't mean for it to be _beautiful_."

Ginny nodded slightly. "Yes, of course…"

He hadn't seen her since that night, the night they'd come _so close_… "Is that your Keeper over there?"

She didn't bother looking behind her. "Are you talking about Ron? Probably," she replied shortly. "Again, very nice job with the eulogy," she stated and then she turned and left.

At that same moment, her brother came to stand next to him. "I'm glad Gin left; I was afraid I was going to have to ask her to leave again so that we could talk in private. I don't think she would have appreciated that," Ron said.

"No, she probably wouldn't have," Draco agreed, casting a sidelong glance over the object of their conversation as they walked away from the crowd.

When they were safely out of earshot, Ron began talking. "I want to thank you for confirming our suspicions."

Draco leaned against a lamppost and crossed his arms over his chest. "What have you found?"

Ron's hands slipped into his pockets and he rocked back on his heels as the wind tugged his red hair. "None of Dakotah's alibis held up. No one she says she was with that afternoon and the following evening can confirm it."

The blonde man looked away from Ron, his eyes once again falling upon Ginny. She was with Les's wife, hugging her and talking to her. Draco could only assume she was offering words of hope and comfort to the woman. _Perhaps words someone once spoke to her?_ He didn't know.

"So now all we need is a motive," Draco mused out loud. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Smoking was one vice he rarely gave into, and only on especially stressful situations. He offered one to Ron.

"No, no thank you. Hermione would have my neck." There was humor in his voice, but a genuine, respectful fear in his eyes.

Draco shrugged and put the pack back in his pocket. "Have you questioned Dakotah further on it?"

Ron shook his head. "Not yet. We're waiting for the _right_ time."

Draco watched Ron intently, seeing the man roll his eyes with humorless sarcasm. "We'll wait until we have more solid evidence."

"I don't think you'll get any," Draco said.

Ron's gaze leveled with his. "Neither do I."

* * *

Ginny returned home from the funeral feeling deadened. The funeral must have taken more of a toll on her than she had realized. Teresa had hugged her hard as she gave her her condolences. Then she'd thanked Ginny profusely for coming, because she'd meant so much to Les.

It was all a bit overwhelming, really.

Then she saw Ron and Draco go off by themselves, finally stopping at a grove of trees long out of her hearing range. It drove her nuts not knowing what the two were talking about, although she felt it was a safe bet that it had to do with Les's death, with the way Ron's eyes shifted about the crowd. Draco, of course, had given nothing away.

She picked up her toothbrush and threw it at the mirror. It bounced off and landed between the sink and the toilet. Ginny wrinkled her nose and left it there.

It wasn't until she was heading down the stairs and pulling on her jacket that she realized she was leaving her apartment complex for a good, long time. She didn't dwell long on where she was headed. Deep down, she knew.

* * *

The last person Draco expected to see walking through the rain was Ginny, but there she was, outside his modest home, pacing the sidewalk.

He cocked his head and studied her. Her red hair was sopping wet, hanging in wet strands down her back. Her sweater was clinging to her curves and he thought she might be cold.

Against his better judgment, he opened the door and called out to her over the rain. "Ginny!" When her head snapped up and her eyes turned to him, he motioned for her to come over.

"What the hell are you doing out here? Are you trying to get sick?" He was careful to keep concern from his voice.

Ginny brushed past him, dripping rainwater onto his clean carpet. Draco was about to point this out, but she had already turned on him. "What were you and Ron talking about earlier today?"

Draco moved past her, mildly irritated that she followed him into the living room as if she was a regular fixture in his home. In his life. "What your brother and I were talking about had nothing to do with you."

"Maybe not," she said bitterly, "but it had to do with Les and he was my boss long before he was yours. I have a right to know what the hell you and Ron were talking about at his funeral!" Ginny stamped her foot for emphasis.

"That's your argument to convince me to tell you what your brother and I were talking about? Very mature, Ginny," he responded snidely.

She lifted her chin in defiance. "Tell me the goddamn truth, Draco. I am _sick_ of people not telling me anything. You of all people should know I'm strong enough to face the truth, or at the very least, you ought to not care if my heart breaks because of what you say."

He appreciated the stubbornness in her tone and eyes. "Are you always such a pain?" he asked.

Ginny visibly relaxed, most likely thinking she'd gained ground with him. Draco wasn't about to tell her she'd already gained much more than anyone else had.

"Only around Ron. Apparently you too bring out the worst in me."

He heard the smile in her voice and couldn't help but smile himself, although his back was to her.

Draco took her by the arm and steered her to the sofa. "You ask too many questions," he commented.

She flushed. "I've heard that before," she admitted.

He took a seat next to her, his body responding in ways it shouldn't have just by the heat that emanated from hers. He cursed her husband for putting him in this position.

"There are some problems with Dakotah's alibis, it seems," he said finally.

Draco watched as her jaw dropped while she obviously wrestled with how to take this, how to respond.

"What?" she finally whispered.

"What _what_?" Draco repeated dully.

"What are the problems with the alibis?" she expanded.

Draco leaned back into the sofa. "Oh well that's an easy enough question to answer. None of her alibis remember even _seeing _her that night, much less talking with her."

"Oh shit," Ginny muttered.

"It seems she might have something to do with that little incident in St. Petersburg as well—"

"She said she was in the office with Les that day!" Ginny blurted out. Confusion riddled her eyes and body posture.

"Yes and it's not as if we can ask Les if that's true now, can we?" he remarked snidely.

Her teeth started chattering horribly, so Draco performed a warming spell on her before leaving her side to fetch a blanket. Upon returning, he laid the thick coverlet over her shoulders and she gripped at the edges, bringing them closer for warmth.

"Thank you."

Draco nodded, feeling pleased with his display of chivalry.

"So Ron knows all this?" she prompted.

"Yes. She's what we spoke of the night of Les's death. Your brother wanted to know my opinion of her."

"And you told him…what?"

Draco glanced at her. "The truth of course."

They sat in an odd silence then. It wasn't uncomfortable so much as it was different. The air between them was shockingly still, but the tension was tangible.

* * *

"Ginny, why did you come here?" he asked finally.

Her mouth opened before her mind had an answer for him. "I-I don't know," she finally answered weakly. "Because you're the only one I know who doesn't pity me?" Ginny leaned forward, stretching her hands to her toes as she did so. The soft blanket fell from her shoulders.

"Oh, I pity you all right. You married Potter, after all," he quipped.

She smiled despite telling herself that he wasn't all that funny and such rude behavior shouldn't be rewarded. Soon she found herself laughing, perhaps because she knew it wasn't all that funny.

"Fine then," she managed through her laughter, "you're the only one who hasn't completely changed on me. You're the one constant in my life at the moment."

"I don't know about that," he muttered. "After all, everyone changes."

Immediately, the laughter died on her lips. "Oh Draco…"

He cleared his throat and stood up. "Well then," he said in a gruff voice, "if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go to bed." Ginny wasn't sure of what he meant by telling her that. "You're welcome to sleep out here, if you'd like."

Ginny licked her lips and stood up so that she might see into his eyes better. "Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I should probably be getting home."

Draco's nod was absent. "Yes, of course," he replied distantly, as if he was distracted.

She walked to the door with a heavy mind. There was so _much_ hanging between them, left unsaid, though she wasn't even sure what it was that they weren't saying to one another.

"Ginny." His voice was soft yet commanding.

"Yes?" she prompted, somewhat startled by his voice.

"Take care," he wished her simply.

As she left his home, she felt the last shred of her dignity slip away. She was sure he knew how she felt about him and therefore, he'd dismissed her so casually on purpose.

Ginny bit her bottom lip, summoning up every once of courage she had and put her hand on the doorknob once again.


	14. Affected

Chapter 13: _Affected_

Ginny was surprised to be yanked back into Draco's home when the door opened, not of her doing, with her hand around the doorknob. Unbalanced because of the shock, she stumbled into the entryway and then toppled into his strong embrace.

"Oh god, I am such a klutz," she moaned pitifully, more than a little embarrassed.

Draco nodded absently and slammed the door closed with his free hand. She was mesmerized by the change in his eyes. They'd gone from an icy silver to nearly blue in a matter of moments.

Her courage faltered under his intense gaze. She tipped her head up and moved closer to him out of instinct just as he lowered his mouth to hers in a slow, exploratory kiss.

Ginny's hands wandered up his body freely. She touched the planes of his chest with shaky fingers, reveling at the feeling of smooth muscles rippling beneath her light touch.

Draco pulled away from her only to kiss her again, finally pushing her from him. "You need to leave."

"Why?" she demanded.

Her question was answered with a blank look.

* * *

She wanted to know _why_ she needed to leave? The answers were simple enough, but Draco was not about to voice them. Not to the mirror, not to his firewhisky, and most certainly not to her.

For one, there were too many demons chasing him. He couldn't allow them to catch up to him for one night of shagging. Although, with the way her hair was falling about her shoulders and her brown eyes were snapping, Draco wasn't so sure it would be worth it to ignore the shagging.

Draco shook his head, thinking of the other reason she really needed to leave. They were co-workers, plain and simple. He nearly forgot that piece of information every time they were together.

Then, last but not least, if she didn't leave now, Draco was sure he would lose every ounce of self-control he had. He wanted her, there was no denying that, but he _could_ deny himself of the pleasure of having her beneath him.

The thought of being with her like that, inside of her, sent shockwaves down his spine. He stepped away from her. "You've got to leave, _now_."

Ginny stepped forward defiantly. "No." Her gaze locked onto his, holding him in place. "I feel too alive when I'm around you to just leave now, Draco."

The exterior wall he had tried to keep intact when he was around her cracked with a vicious snap at those words.

Savagely, Draco pulled her against him, backing her into the wall as he did, and kissed her thoroughly with an intensity he hadn't realized was there. His hands roamed all over her body: her hips, the small of her back up her sides and the swell of her breasts.

It had been so long since he'd touched a woman intimately, with the promise of something more, that his fingers trembled slightly, just when his hands tugged at the hem of her top.

She sighed into his mouth as she lifted her arms over her head, allowing him to pull the garment up and off of her freely. Their lips barely broke contact.

"How in the name of everything holy have you managed to affect me so?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could catch them, causing them to awkwardly fall apart.

Ginny stood there before him, clad in her bra and low-slung jeans. Her cheeks pinked a bit under the intensity of his gaze and soon she was looking at him with a shy smile. Draco had never seen any witch more beautiful than her.

He longed to touch her, if even for the shortest of seconds. Feelings roiled around inside him that went as deep as his father's prejudices, but felt as unknown as the weight of her breath on his skin.

"That's the most honest thing anyone has ever said to me," she admitted freely. Ginny took a couple of steps to him. When she got to him, she pulled his shirt over his head. Draco closed his eyes, knowing what she would see.

* * *

At first Ginny couldn't look away from the hardened muscles of his chest. He looked much stronger without a shirt on than he did _with _one on. Her eyes skipped down from his chest, landing on the long, thin scar that ran across his torso.

Gently, she ran her fingers against the raised skin. "What's this from?" she asked gingerly.

By now, Draco's eyes were closed and his breathing had turned shallow. "Your husband. Our sixth year." He didn't explain further, which was fine, because Ginny vaguely remembered Harry (and Ron and Hermione) mentioning cursing Malfoy in the loo one day.

He brought his left hand up to Ginny's cheek, placing it against her warm skin. She pressed her cheek further into his palm, finding comfort in the simple gesture. It only took her a moment to notice the faded tattoo just past his wrist.

She'd never been so close to the Dark Mark and oddly enough, it didn't send shivers up and down her spine or make her fearful. She studied it for a bit and then brought her gaze back to Draco's face.

Though his eyes were closed, Draco must have sensed where her eyes had laid. She felt him tense before opened his mouth, offering up an explanation. "I was seventeen and ruled by my father—"

Ginny touched her index finger to his lips. "Shush now, I don't need to know."

Draco opened his eyes slowly, blinking as he did. "Ginny—"

She shook her head firmly. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but here and now."

He nodded however reluctantly and Ginny chose to ignore the haunted look in his gaze; instead, she pulled his head down to hers in order to kiss him.

And all at once, the barriers that had been erected between them crumbled to their feet.

The sense of Draco surrounded her and filled her to brimming. In what was one of the most ungraceful moments of her life, Ginny stumbled to the floor, taking Draco with her.

Together they moved in one fluid motion. Their breaths mingled together, dancing upon one another's skin. They touched one another in wonder and loved each other wholly, although they were too stubborn to admit it, even to themselves.

There was a moment when he peeled his lips from her neck and looking at her whispered, "You're beautiful."

His words didn't fully impact her until much later, after they'd traveled from the floor to his bedroom, making love once more.

_He said I was beautiful_. She smiled to herself, even as she wondered if he said it just because of the sex.

Ginny forced all negative thoughts out of her mind, opting instead to focus on the man next to her. She lay on her side, tracing the lines of his muscles lazily.

A glimmer of a smile graced his mouth. "Stay the night," he said against the fingers now brushing his lips.

Her heart swelled with pleasure and something else, an emotion she wasn't quite ready to examine more closely. She nodded silently, hoping her glee wasn't so transparent.

"Good," Draco replied simply.

They stayed like that for a long time: facing each other, not talking, only looking.

* * *

Draco didn't sleep that night. Instead he watched Ginny as she slept. He took his time lingering over the planes of her skin, memorizing each freckle and marveling at the way the moonlight turned her hair into a long cascade of fire.

In the silent darkness, Draco was forced to face how he felt for her, and then walk away from it.

He shifted uncomfortably, shoving the coverlet down to his waist, feeling quite hot suddenly.

What amazed him most was that she had seen the tattoo on his left arm and hadn't turned away in disgust. She had in fact accepted him as he was and allowed him to take full possession of her body and in turn, she took possession of his.

With a head full of thoughts, Draco left the comfort and warmth of Ginny and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

* * *

"_What the hell do you want, Potter?" Draco snapped as soon as his old enemy walked into his office._

"_Thanks for such a cordial welcome," Harry returned with dry amusement in his voice._

"_Well, what is it then?" Draco plowed forward, intent on having this meeting over and done with as soon as possible._

_Harry wrung his hands together. "Well Les and I…You remember Les?" At Draco's nod, Harry continued, "We've been trying to find the culprit behind a series of Muggle attacks—"_

"_And let me guess: in a moment of pure, unadulterated brilliance, you've decided that _I'm _to blame." Draco laughed caustically. "Well Potter, sorry to disappoint, but as you can see, I've got better things to do than harm defenseless Muggles."_

"_No, believe it or not we didn't even consider you as a suspect," Harry replied reasonably._

"_I suppose you were watching my every move then?" Draco prompted._

_Harry cursed under his breath. "No Malfoy, unlike you, I don't have the inclination to keep up childish feuds."_

_Draco's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, but he didn't anything in return._

_Harry took a deep, deep breath. "I'm here because I believe this person is acting out of revenge for your father's arrest."_

_As he folded his hands together, Draco regarded Harry coolly. "I denounced my father years ago, Potter," he growled. And it was true: he'd left his father in a wake of hatred and disappointment even before Voldemort had been defeated._

"_Still, you know information that would be valuable to us," Harry countered._

"_Oh? And that would be what?"_

_Harry leaned forward and a thatch of hair fell into his startling green eyes. "Consider this, Malfoy: all of your father's cohorts are in Azkaban… or hell. So whoever is behind these Muggle attacks wasn't a known Death Eater or worse, they never were a Death Eater."_

"_So what is it you want me to do? Track down every wizard and witch my father associated with who hadn't openly pledged allegiance to Voldemort?" Draco's voice was a sarcastic drawl._

_Harry lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "If you would be willing to do that…"_

_Draco considered this for a long moment. "What makes you so sure I'd be willing to help you?"_

_A cocky grin broke out on Harry's face. "Because you despise everything representing your father. Including his business associates."_

_Settling back into his chair, Draco nodded. "True, but what's in it for me?"_

"_The satisfaction of knowing you've done one thing right in your life before you die," Harry replied earnestly._

_Draco shrugged. "I'm not worried about the number of 'right' things I do before I die."_

"_That much is apparent," Harry muttered in a barely audible tone._

"_What does that mean?" Draco snarled._

"_It means that you treated Irene poorly and she's probably the only woman who has ever, and will ever, love you," Harry explained easily. _

"_I thought you said you weren't watching me." Draco's voice instinctively lowered._

"_And I was being honest. I overheard your secretary telling her friend about the whole sordid affair while I was waiting in the lobby."_

_Draco uttered a more than offensive oath._

_Harry's eyebrows rose into his bangs. "Now that wasn't very nice."_

"_Fuck off and die, Potter. Not everyone has the privilege of marrying their childhood sweetheart. For that matter, not everyone marries anyone."_

_Draco eyed the gold band on Harry's left hand warily. "Besides, there isn't a Ginny Weasley out there for everyone. He practically spat out Ginny's name._

_The smile on Harry's face was fond. Absently, Harry twisted the band around on his finger. "No there isn't, and for that I am eternally grateful."_

"_Get out of here before I vomit all over you," Draco threatened after rolling his eyes._

_Harry left Draco's office laughing heartily as he did._

* * *

"And that was the beginning," Draco mused. He raised the glass of water to his lips and started to sip.

"The beginning of what?" Ginny asked from kitchen's entrance.

Draco turned to find a very nearly naked Ginny standing there looking tousled and alive.

She was wearing his shirt and just that, for Merlin's sake! His eyes roamed over her body, taking in the way his shirt came just below mid-thigh, showcasing an incredible set of legs.

All of the sudden feeling quite warm, Draco raised his eyes to her face, noticing how her reddish-gold locks fell about her shoulders in a tangled mass, making her look thoroughly shagged.

_I did that_.

She grinned unabashedly. "I hope this is all right?" she asked, tugging on the hem of his shirt in a pathetic attempt at decency.

Draco nodded his approval. "It's more than all right. You look dead sexy," he added while running his gaze over her body.

Ginny visibly shivered.

He motioned for her to come closer and she obliged, leaning against the countertop in front of him. Draco placed his hand on her hip, under the fabric of his shirt and ran his hand along her side.

She bit her lip, looking down at him with heavily-lidded eyes. "Trying to get me in bed with you, Draco?" Her voice was a lazy drawl.

Draco nodded and took her chin between his hands, bringing her head down to his, and kissed her thoroughly.

"Need…to get…you…to bed," he managed to say between alternating light and heavy kisses.

"What about your water?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Can wait," Draco replied with a growl.

Ginny giggled and kissed him.

"You're going to be the death of me," he said when she released him. The room was spinning around him: the only thing still was Ginny.

"Well then," she said as she ran her fingers along the length of his arm, "at least you'll die making lo—," she stopped short, her eyes widening in surprise.

Draco cocked his head to the side. "Making what?" he asked, even though he knew what she had been about to say.

She shook her head and cast her eyes away from him. "Shagging, of course. At least you'll die shagging. What a way to go!" She chuckled nervously.

He couldn't blame her for not saying the word _love_, for he didn't know if he was even comfortable with her using _it _around him.

Ginny brought her gaze back up to him. She was biting her lip, looking uncertain. "I'm sorry," she finally said.

"For what?"

She smiled, but he could see something behind her bright eyes. "Never mind. Now I'm just babbling." Ginny reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him, effectively bringing him to his knees.

* * *

Ginny woke before the dawn. All was silent except the blood whirring in her ears, which was thunderously loud. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned her head and looked at the man sleeping next to her.

He was _so _different from Harry. Everything about him…from his blonde hair to the Dark Mark and the way he shagged… even the way he slept was different. He slept as if he was not sleeping at all, but rather listening very closely with his eyes shut.

She didn't know what she felt toward him, though she knew she'd almost voiced the word _love _out loud to him and felt like a fool because of the near slip. Ginny wasn't so dense as to believe he didn't know what she'd been about to say.

His back rose with each breath and Ginny knew she would have to leave, no matter how much she wanted to stay. There was too much that needed to be said for her to continue lying next to him.

Her mouth curled in a small smile. She had felt _cherished_. She had felt him in her, around her and most importantly, _with _her. He hadn't been thinking of other things, or other women. He hadn't been wondering about Dakotah's connection to Les's murder. He had been with her and only her. There had been very few times with Harry that she had felt him _with _her, totally and freely.

She memorized the time between his breaths, the way he shifted when her fingers traveled down his spine.

Ginny sat up, not bothering to cover her bare skin with the comforter and pressed the tips of her fore and middle finger to her mouth and then to Draco's shoulder. "Until we meet again," she whispered.

* * *

Draco rolled over as soon as he heard the bedroom door click shut behind Ginny's retreating footsteps. He had known that she couldn't stay. He had asked her in vain to stay, knowing perfectly well it was wishful, or foolish, thinking.

He didn't go to the door or attempt to stop her, because he knew she needed to leave. So he went to the large eastern-facing window; the sun was just beginning to break through the horizon, painting the sky with brilliant red brush strokes.

Watching the morning horizon become doused in scarlet, Draco was reminded of an old fisherman's adage. "Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailors delight." He couldn't remember where he'd heard it from--probably from someone long ago.

No matter how much he tried to appreciate the brilliance of the sky, he couldn't help but feel a tremor in his heart. Change was coming today.

* * *

It was sometime late afternoon Sunday when the loud knock startled Ginny out of her reading.

She was wearing pajama bottoms and a hooded sweatshirt, no make-up on her face and her hair was pulled back into a lazy bun.

Ginny was surprised to see her brother's profile through the peephole. She opened it, a curious look already on her face. "Ron? Is everything all right?"

The look on his face was one she'd never seen before: impassable, impatient and totally not Ron. This person in front of her…he was cold, lifeless and professional. A queer feeling filled her stomach and she had the distinct feeling that she was going to throw up.

"Ron?"

He stepped inside her flat, brushing her aside. "I've come to tell you that we've made a couple of formal arrests for the murder of your husband."

Her ears were ringing so loudly she thought she might be deaf. She saw his mouth move, consciously knew he was speaking, but his words sounded garbled or even worse, not there at all. They seemed to be coming from some other plane of existence altogether.

Ron took her hand in his and led her back into her living room, sitting her down on the plush sofa she and Harry had picked out together a year before his death.

Ginny forced herself to look at her brother and to focus on the words he was saying.

"We arrested Dakotah Prior for the death of Harry, as well as Les's death," Ron stated quietly, looking her evenly in the eye. His gaze was unwavering. "She named Draco Malfoy as an accomplice."

The words were not unexpected to her: somewhere in the very back of her mind, she knew Dakotah had murdered Les, if not Harry. She would have known, had she thought about it, that Dakotah would name Draco. Still, she felt as if the rug had been pulled from underneath her feet.

"Not for Les's murder. He was in St. Petersburg with me," she responded numbly.

Ron squeezed her hand. "No, only for Harry's."

_Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…_

"Surely you don't believe her?" she asked. Her voice belied a calmness she really did not feel.

"We had to make the arrest, just to be sure."

"He didn't kill Harry." Her tone was flat.

Ron stood up and began pacing. "We can't know that for sure," he argued calmly. "He's always hated Harry—"

"And Harry had always hated him. If Draco had been murdered you wouldn't go blaming Harry, would you?"

"Don't be daft Ginny, Harry's dead."

Ginny shot to her feet in anger. "If Harry was still alive and it was Draco who had been murdered, you never would have thought to arrest Harry. The only reason you've arrested Draco is because _you _hate him! You don't honestly think he's guilty!"

Ron thundered toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "And the only reason you're defending him is because you fucked him!"

She recoiled as if she'd been hit. "What?"

Ron's eyes had darkened to nearly black. "You heard me."

"How dare you make that accusation!" she shot back, infuriated.

"I don't hear you denying it!" he roared.

Ginny stepped back from her brother, taking a big gulp of air as she did so. "You're right Ron: I'm not denying it. But I'm also going to remind you that what I do in my personal life is just that: my personal life."

She waited for this information to process in her brother's brain, knowing it might take a minute or two. "Ron," she started in a soothing voice. "Do you honestly think Draco would murder Harry?"

Ron shook his head. "It's not for me to say one way or another, Ginny. Don't you understand? Dakotah named him and he's not denying he took part in the murder."

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. "Is he admitting to anything?"

"No."

"Then how can you be so sure he's guilty?" Ginny asked.

Ron reached out to her, once again putting his hands on her shoulders in a much more comforting gesture than he had before. "How can you be so sure he isn't?"


	15. The Martyr

Chapter 14: _The Martyr  
_

Three weeks had gone by and she still was not allowed to see him. Three long weeks, lost in the vortex of time forever. She was kicking herself now, for not telling him how she felt. For not _expressing_ to him how she felt. However that was.

She slid in between the sheets of her bed and let her head sink into the feather pillow. Instinctively she turned her head to the side of the bed that Harry used to occupy. He had been gone a year tomorrow. Ginny reached out her hand and touched the pillow, imagining it was Harry. Or maybe not even Harry, but someone, some person who was there, who was attainable, who was willing to hold and be held in return.

Even now, she could still see Harry lying next to her, sleeping next to her. If she concentrated just hard enough, she could make out the steady rise and fall of his chest.

She missed her husband, but on an even baser, instinctive level, she missed having someone of her own. Foolishly, her ego had thought Draco might be that man and if not today, then someday maybe.

Ginny sighed, running her hands along the smooth fabric of their, no _her_, sheets. _There is no _their _anymore, Ginny. There's only _you. _Me_.

The revelation that she could no longer think in terms of 'us' or 'we' came as a startling revelation to Ginny: she had found that she was no longer part of a team, be it Harry's or Draco's, or even her family's team, but she rather stood alone. Decisions were hers to make and hers alone. She didn't have to worry about what others would think or say.

It was a scary realization, to say the least.

She rolled out of bed, shivering a little when her feet hit the cold hardwood floor of her bedroom. Ginny immediately went to the closet and pulled out the pair of jeans she'd thrown there earlier that evening. She put the nearest top she could find and then slipped her feet into a pair of tennis shoes, leaving the socks in her drawer.

* * *

It was the first time she'd been to Harry's gravesite since the funeral.

Leaves littered the cemetery and she had to take a moment to remember the exact location of Harry's grave but once she did, she seemed to gravitate right to it.

She pressed her hands into her thighs as she sat down cross-legged next to her husband's grave. Ginny touched the dirt that covered it and managed to look at the headstone. She smiled upon reading the still shining words etched across the center in a fine font:

_Harry James Potter  
__  
__Loved Husband. Dear Brother. Best Mate._

_Sense shines with a double luster _

_When it is set in humility. _

_An able and yet humble man is _

_A jewel worth a kingdom. _

_- William Penn_

She had opted to not put his birth and death dates on the marker because really, did it matter how long he was on the earth? Wasn't it more important just to know that he once was here and now he wasn't? She was still happy with her decision.

It was perhaps an odd choice of a quote to put on his headstone, but to Ginny, it fit Harry perfectly. He was the sensible man. He was able and willing; he gave without receiving and the entire time, he didn't even realize he did these things. To him, he was not greatness. To him, Hermione was sensible, and Ron was able, and it was Ginny who was the jewel worth an entire kingdom. He never would have thought those things to be him. To be so totally _Harry_. Ginny had read that quote and knew instantly that it was the one. It was as if this William Penn, whoever he was, had written it concerning Harry and Ginny had to have it, whatever the cost.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth and then to the granite stone. "There are so many things I have to say to you, I'm afraid it might take all night," she whispered nearly apologetically.

"I'm sorry this is the first time I've been here to visit. I didn't think I was strong enough before." She lifted her head to the dark sky, letting the brisk night air wash over her. "I'm tougher now though."

She continued their one-sided conversation with her face turned toward the heavens. "There were days I honestly didn't know if I would make it, Harry. There have been so many bad days; but so many good days as well."

Ginny took in a deep, heavy breath. The heady scent of fall filled her nose and she felt completely calm. She felt totally in control. "I need to know a couple of things, Harry, and I'm sure you have the answers. That is, you've always had the answers. The problem has been whether or not you're willing to share them."

She knew she would look silly to an outsider, sitting next to a grave and talking to thin air, but she shrugged these thoughts away from herself and concentrated only on the matter at hand. "It would be really great if you could give those answers now. Give up your great, big secret. Too many things are at stake here. People's freedoms are in jeopardy.

"You knew it was Dakotah all along, didn't you? You knew that she had killed that family in Nottingham, that man in St. Petersburg. Why didn't you ever report it to Les? Or, at the very least, why didn't you tell me? I would have stood by you; I could have helped.

"Instead you turned to Draco Malfoy." She shuddered as for a fleeting moment, it was as if his fingers were caressing her again, touching her in places she hadn't known existed. "You figured it was Dakotah, but had to be sure, and Draco was the only one who could confirm your suspicions; then you had Les arrange it so that you and Draco would be working on the case covertly.

"It really was a brilliant plan Harry, except for a couple of things. You're dead now, Les is dead and Ron just arrested Draco for your murder, after Dakotah pointed her long finger in his direction, of course."

Ginny sat silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night, trying to decipher a message from Harry in the hoot of an owl or the rustling of leaves. There was nothing but an elusive silence.

"Draco wasn't involved in your murder Harry. I know he wasn't. I think Ron even knows it; trouble is I've got no idea as to how to prove that. These last three weeks since his arrest, I have looked through your desk drawer, through old shoeboxes full of old letters, hell I've even looked through the junk drawer in the kitchen. There's nothing," she said the words as a heavy sigh.

"Help me Harry. Please, give me a sign or something, _anything_," she pled softly.

She waited for what could have been a minute or fifty-nine of them and still there was nothing.

Drawing her knees to her chest, she balanced her chin on her left knee and continued to gaze at Harry's headstone silently. "I could never, _will_ never, believe that Draco is even minutely guilty, Harry."

Pulling away from her knees, she continued speaking to the wind, this time in a more forceful tone.

"You may have hated Draco while we were in school and perhaps you did even as you worked alongside him, but I can't imagine that you ever wanted him to be arrested for something he wasn't responsible for. That's not the Harry I married." A strangling sound escaped her lips.

She took a very deep breath, allowing the night air to expand and fill her lungs until she couldn't take in any more. Then she held the air there until she felt ready to burst and let it out in one big rush of air.

"I didn't realize how much of you was still here, Harry. I've loved you for so long that I've been afraid of letting you go." She felt as if she was breaking up with him and perhaps, in some small way, she was. "There will always be a part of me with you Harry. Always. And I will always love you in a safe corner of my heart."

She stood up, feeling the muscles in her legs stretch and pull. She relished in the feeling of simply being _alive_. And when she finally walked away from her husband, promising to visit again, and soon, she felt much lighter, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest.

* * *

Her heels clicked on the tile floor of the Auror Academy where Ron worked. It wasn't really an academy, although some students trained and studied there, but more or less a long building with corridors leading to this Auror's office and that Auror's office. Ron's was the last office down the third hallway to the left, if you were coming from the front entrance, the way Ginny was coming.

She was furious.

"Whoa!" Ron called out, surprised when his door flung open, smacking loudly into the metal filing cabinet that had always been in the way. He had a big goofy, dopey grin spread across his face. "To what do I owe this surprise?"

At the look on her face, his smile disappeared and he sighed and rubbed his chin wearily. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be a pleasant visit?"

She kicked the office door shut with her foot and glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "I don't know what the hell you're getting at, but it isn't funny. It's juvenile, childish and something I'm sure Harry wouldn't approve of!"

To Ron's credit, he looked befuddled when he asked a resounding, "What?"

She nearly shook, she was so angry. "You're taking Draco to court!" she hissed. "He's going to appear before the Ministry of Magic when you _know_ he's innocent!"

"It's standard procedure, you know that." He was bristling under the intensity of her stare. "Besides, _Malfoy_ isn't denying the accusation."

"Harry wouldn't like this at all, Ron," she finally said quietly even though inside she felt like she might explode. "You're allowing an innocent person to stand for murder. You're only doing this because you hate him," she accused.

She started moving toward the door, but Ron interrupted her by muttering something unintelligible.

"What did you say?" she demanded, frustrated and tired.

"I _said_: if you honestly think that's what I'm doing, blaming Draco Malfoy for Harry's death because I hate him, then you don't know me at all," he told her. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you doing?" she asked without turning around.

"Trying to find the bastard who murdered my best mate."

Ginny turned to face him, with one more idea in mind. "So am I, Ron. So am I. Harry was my husband, of course I want to find his murderer… but Ron, it's not Draco. You've arrested her…please, let me at least talk to Draco."

Ron shook his head vehemently. "No Ginny, I won't allow it." Thatches of red hair fell in his eyes as he continued shaking his head.

Her heart sank. "Please Ron, I'm begging you. You know I would never ask something of this magnitude unless it was really important. You know how critical this is."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you want to?"

"Because he was my partner? Because I care for him as a--a--a friend?" she replied, as if they were the most obvious answers in the world. She bit her bottom lip and started chewing on it. "Ron, please. His trial is closed to the public…I just…really need this, please?"

She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of her big brother. It made her feel weak and she had a niggling sense that it gave him something to hold over her, seeing her like this. She was afraid he would use this afternoon against her when he was feeling particularly immature.

He regarded her with a wariness that made her wonder if she had grown another head in the last ten minutes since she'd seen her reflection.

Finally, he spoke up. "If I give you _five minutes_ will you finally shut up and leave me alone to do my work?" he asked as he held up one hand with his fingers spread wide, emphasizing the five minute time limit he'd set.

A wave of relief washed over her. She threw her arms around her brother's neck in a quick hug, giving him a peck on the cheek as she did so. "Thank you Ron, thank you! I take back every mean thing I've ever said about you!"

Ron's chuckle was a comfortable, familiar sound Ginny hadn't realized she had missed until she heard it. "No, you don't. The next time I say or do something to piss you off, I'm sure you'll regret ever saying such a thing."

"Now, when do you want to do this?"

* * *

She followed Ron to the bottommost level of the Ministry of Magic, where they were keeping Draco in a small, concrete block of a room. She felt the air get colder as she descended into the basement.

Ginny had never been down this far and she was keenly aware of why she'd never felt the need to as soon as the strong scent of mildew assaulted her nose. The air tasted stale in her mouth.

Ron led her to the end room, which was nothing more than a hole in a cement wall and looked at her as if to ask, "You're sure you want to do this?"

She nodded and pursed her lips together. Yes, she was sure.

Her brother performed a series of quick, unrecognizable flicks of his wand and the bolt holding the door shut creaked and groaned as it unlocked. Ron motioned toward his watch, once again telling her she only had five minutes.

Ginny rolled her eyes at this and then disappeared into the small block. Ron shut the door behind her.

The air in the holding room was cold and tasted bitter. She felt her nerve leave her, if only for a moment.

"What do you want?" Draco's voice filled the small room.

It was dark in the room; Ginny could only barely see Draco's outline, sitting on the bed pushed into the corner.

"It's me, Draco." Her voice was loud in the still room.

She heard the bedsprings creak and bed sheets rustle. "What the hell…?"

Ginny moved toward the center of the room. "I only have five minutes and then I have to leave. Draco, let me help you. There has to be some way to prove that you are innocent—"

"Ginny," Draco interrupted.

She continued talking, ignoring his sharp interruptions. "You must have alibis that can attest to that."

"_Ginny, listen to me!_" Draco snapped.

She was shocked into silence. "What?" she asked then, confused.

"You won't find any alibis and even if you did, it wouldn't matter."

Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat. There was something in his tone that made her uneasy.

Finally having adjusted to the darkness, she was able to make out Draco's features. His already thin face was now even thinner. His shoulders stooped. To her, he looked years older than he had three weeks ago.

"Why?" she asked even though she dreaded the answer.

His light eyes met her dark ones. "I'm pleading guilty."

Her jaw dropped. "You can't," she protested weakly.

"I can and I am," he leveled with her.

Ginny was too flabbergasted to say anything.

"What? You're not going to argue with me?" he asked snidely.

_That_ rallied a response from her. "Why the _hell _would you do that? You're innocent, for God's sake!"

"What makes you so sure I am?" he growled.

She blinked in surprise. She stumbled back a couple of steps when her knees buckled. Draco was immediately at her side, holding her and making sure she didn't fall to the cold, wet floor.

His breath was hitting her in the face, hot and warm but not unwelcome. She grasped his shoulders and he brought his face down to nuzzle her neck. "How much time do we have?" His voice was muffled, his face in her hair.

Her hands stroked his back. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears there to retreat. "Not nearly enough," she whispered huskily.

The silence was nerve wrecking and too loud. Ginny piped up, "Draco, don't do this. Please."

He stiffened. "Let me be," he warned, pulling away from her and turning his back to her.

She shook her head violently, a splash of red filling the gray room as her hair fell from the ribbon holding it back. "No Draco, you aren't going to shut me out. Not now, I won't let you. I refuse to be shut out." She reached out to touch him but he wrenched his arm out of her reach.

"Leave me alone!"

"No! Not until you tell me why you're doing this!" she demanded.

Draco whipped back around to face her. "Why? You want to know _why_?" he yelled. His voice reverberated off the walls and down Ginny's spine. "Because this is what I deserve! _This _is my penitence!" He motioned around the dreary cell. "This is my destiny!"

"No, Draco—"

"Yes, Ginny!" he interrupted. "This is where I'm destined to be. This is where my father ended up, where his father ended up and now it's my turn."

"You are not your father," was all she could say.

He snorted. "Maybe not, but I am my father's son and that is enough."

"Stop it Draco, stop trying to be the martyr—"

"Is that what you think?" he cut her off. "That I'm trying to be the martyr?"

She nodded vehemently. "Yes that's what I think! I think you're trying to be noble when nobility is _not _what I want! I don't want you to be noble, I just want you to be with me!" she shouted. Ginny had not meant to admit those words to him or anyone, for that matter, but now that they were out there, floating between them, she didn't regret saying them. "Draco…" she started, but wasn't able to finish because of the catch in her throat.

Ginny brought her hands up to her hair and pulled on its ends, aggravated beyond reason with Draco. Her hands trembled with anger. "So that's it then? You're just going to throw in the towel?"

He leaned against the filthy wall, watching her intently. "I'm hardly 'just going to throw in the towel,' as you so eloquently put it."

"Oh then what are you doing?" she asked. "Please, enlighten me," she asked sarcastically.

"Fulfilling my destiny," he responded darkly. His eyes bore through her and she felt him looking into her soul.

Ginny looked away from him. "Fine then…have a good life," she said brusquely. She turned to go but Draco stepped in front of her.

Within moments, he pressed his mouth to hers in a soft, simply kiss. It was a kiss to say _goodbye_.

* * *

Outside the cell, Ron checked his watch uneasily. It had been much longer than the allotted five minutes. It had been nearly half-an-hour, but Ron was not comfortable with the thought of interrupting them. For reasons unknown, he knew they needed this time alone together. It would be their last time alone.

Just then, the door pulled open and Ginny stepped out, looking no worse than she did when she'd gone in. Ron figured that meant one of two things: their meeting had gone exactly as expected, or not at all. He never got a chance to ask though, for she was up the stairs and out the hall before he even had the cell door locked.

* * *

The morning of Draco's hearing, Ginny left work early. Besides, it wasn't imperative that she was there. If she had thought she was treated like an outcast in the days and weeks following Harry's death, she did not know what to call herself now. People didn't just tiptoe around her; they completely avoided her. Worst of all, she could not find it in her to confront them. And so, she left early. 

She went home first to dress in her best black dress robes. They were the same robes she had worn to her husband's funeral and she figured a sentencing was nearly the same as a funeral and therefore, it was worthy of the expensive dress robes of simple elegance.

Ginny took her time putting her make-up, choosing the colors carefully. A light brown blush for her cheeks and green shadow for her eyes. Then she magicked her hair into a loose bun, soft tendrils framing her face.

Looking in the mirror, she decided she scarcely looked any better than the day of the funeral.

She shrugged, decided that she was not going to look any better today, and left for the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

It wasn't hard to figure out in which Accusation Hall Draco's sentencing was taking place. For even though there were no signs pointing her in the right direction and no one would even hint at the direction to her, she overheard their whispers and was able to find the room easily.

Standing in front of the tall, foreboding double doors, Ginny pondered how she would get in. She was able to conjure up a mental image of the room and located, and counted, all of the entrances in her mind. There were three leading in the room. It didn't take a genius to know that each of those doors would be protected by at least four different locking charms.

It was when she recounted the doors that she remembered the balcony with its own private entrance. She recalled her father commenting that this door was never locked, simply because most people forgot it even existed.

She opted to take the back staircase, mainly because she didn't want to get caught.

The door was two flights up. Reaching for the doorknob, she only hesitated slightly. If the door creaked at all, she would be thrown out of the Ministry and most likely not allowed to ever come back. Was she willing to risk it?

Ginny thought about what it would be like to never see him again and her heart clenched. She forced herself to think about her life without Draco and she snorted at the irony of it all. If anyone had said to her that she would be standing here and contemplating how boring life would be without Draco Malfoy, she would have fallen on the floor laughing. It wasn't so funny now.

She could barely stand the thought of never talking to him again, of never yelling at him again or never again kissing him. Still, she knew it would hurt worse to not see the sentencing, even if she knew what the punishment would be. It was then she had a mind-blowing revelation. She was in love with Draco Malfoy.

As staggering as that thought was, Ginny didn't have time to dwell on it. So she shook her head, decided squeaking doors be damned, and she opened the door slowly. She exhaled with relief when the doors opened silently.

Ginny slipped quietly into the front row and leaned over the balcony railing to get a better view.

The trial had already started. Draco sat in the middle of the circular room. Even though there were no ropes or chains visible, Ginny knew magic bound his hands together behind his back and his body to the chair. She was ill prepared for the utter loss she felt as she looked at him, shackled and bound.

She swallowed hard and then looked around the room. She saw Ron's red head, sitting facing Draco. Her father was present too, as was Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa's platinum blonde head shined like a beacon in the otherwise dreary room. Ginny wondered at how hard this must be for her, to watch her son go on trial. She wondered if Narcissa realized that Draco was innocent. That she had raised a good and decent son.

Even at a distance, Ginny knew the woman was worried about her son. She didn't look worried, necessarily, but how could she not be?

Ginny's gaze flickered back to Draco. His head was bent down and weariness seemed to press his shoulders down. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him and tell him everything would be all right even if it would not be.

When Ron stood up and made his way toward Draco, she felt lightheaded and gripped the balcony railing so that her knuckles turned white. Ron leaned over the rail that was separating him from Draco. Ginny saw Draco flinch, knowing it was hard for him to be so close to her brother.

She heard Ron's low murmuring, but could not make out the words.

"Please repeat the question, Mr. Weasley," the man in the judge's seat asked. He was not anyone Ginny recognized and if she wasn't completely off the mark, he was a foreigner with an odd accent. It was almost a Yankee accent. Either way, it was funny hearing her brother referred to as _Mr. _Weasley, which was usually a title reserved for only their father.

Ron turned his face to the man in the holding the gavel. "I asked Mr. Malfoy here, how he pleads."

The silence was so loud, Ginny strained to hear Draco's answer. She wouldn't be able to believe that he would plead guilty until she heard it.

The tension in the room was palpable. So thick was it, she could taste it. Without realizing she was doing it, her eyes fluttered shut as she waited with bated breath for his reply.

"Guilty."

His answer was loud and clear even though his voice was weak.

She could not stand to hear another word, so she slipped out of the room as quietly as she had entered. When she was finally back in the hall, she fell to her knees sobbing, knowing she had truly loved and lost.

* * *

She gave herself one week, and one week only, to grieve for her loss. On the seventh morning, she rose from her bed, pulled on her fluffy bathrobe and padded into the kitchen barefoot.

In the kitchen, she composed a letter to the Liaisons office informing them of her resignation. She would be packed and out of her office within two weeks, she wrote to the office secretary, Carolinia Douglass, who was acting in charge until everything had settled down and they found a replacement for Les.

She took her time eating, showering and dressing that morning. And when she was finally dressed, she decided to walk herself to the cemetery to pay her respects to Les and then to Harry.

Ginny picked flowers on the way to the cemetery, a bouquet for Les. She knelt down by Les' grave. There were dozens of fresh flowers surrounding his headstone along with a moving picture of him and his family. She couldn't help but notice how happy they all looked.

She smiled.

"Rest in peace, Les," she whispered before making her way to Harry's grave.

Leaves covered most of the gravesite and Ginny took her time brushing them away. When she had a spot cleared, she pulled out her wand and performed a spell to thaw the ground. Then she dug a small hole at the base of the headstone.

She had carried scissors in her pocket, the same pocket she carried her wand in. Then she pulled at a small section of her red hair and cut two inches off. Ginny knew she might look funny with a section of hair shorter, although it wasn't really noticeable. This did not matter to her.

Then, laying the strands of hair gently down on the snow, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her wedding band. With nimble fingers, she tied her hair around the ring. When she was done, she put her ring and hair in the small hole she had dug and covered it with the cold dirt and then leaves. There didn't appear to be a disturbance.

She patted the earth, taking pleasure in the dirt on her hands, in the chill in the air. She stood up, feeling better about her life than she had in a long time. She was alone, yes, but she would take this time to learn about herself, to be her own witch and to grow as a person. She grinned.

As she walked toward home, she couldn't help but notice the sunlight shining through the bare branches, nearly blinding her. Nevertheless, she continued walking in its direction, where only bright, sunny skies lay ahead.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue  
**

"_Did you murder Harry Potter?"_

_The blonde woman's chin rose defiantly. "Why would I answer that question?"_

"_Because I asked," Ron Weasley replied irritably._

_She laughed mirthlessly. "Not a good enough reason."_

_Ron stared at her blankly. This was not the Dakotah he knew: this woman was cold, calculating and heartless, not at all the flighty, flirty and happy woman he had known for four years. _

_He came round to stand before her. Steel blue eyes met her fearless gaze. "Did you murder Les Walker?"_

"_Would I tell you if I did?"_

_He was sick and tired of playing cat-and-mouse with her, but he was not about to give up. Harry had been his best mate and deserved more than what he had got so far, as did Les._

_Dakotah's gaze was unwavering and the trial continued much as it had started, with Ron answering and Dakotah playing coy. The hearing came to a halt only when it became apparent that Ron was about to lose his temper, which was something no one wished to see._

"_We will resume the hearing tomorrow," the council agreed. _

_However, tomorrow never happened…_

* * *

It was through the Azkaban prison grapevine that Draco heard what became of Dakotah. She hanged herself in her cell. Draco thought this a very cowardly thing if not because she had died then because she had died a Muggle death. _It figures_, Draco mused, _didn't she marry a Muggle-born_?

Still, she had been kind enough to leave a note for the guards who would find her in the morning. In the note she admitted to murdering not only Harry and Les, but also a couple of other men, including her husband. She made sure to reconfirm her accusations, and their suspicions, that Draco had been apart of it all.

He snorted at the irony of it all. While she managed to escape her own pathetic life, she'd left Draco to serve punishment for a crime he didn't commit. Not that he cared all that much; he always knew prison was his destiny.

What he couldn't figure out though, no matter how long and hard he thought on it, was how and where Dakotah had procured the rope and chair used in her hanging. Nor did he know where the parchment and ink had come from for her to write that letter. The way he figured it, if he was barely allowed a cot to sleep on, she most likely hadn't even gotten that, much less a rope and chair.

And so, Draco spent his days and nights sitting with his back against the slimy, moldy concrete wall of Azkaban's basement cell. Azkaban was not the feared place it once was; there were no dementors: they had been vanquished alongside Voldemort eight years earlier. Instead, powerful wizards and witches guarded the wards with just their wits and wand. It did not matter to Draco either way; he was not about to attempt escape.

Even so, it was not a place filled with sunlight and laughter. Wizards and witches were still imprisoned within its dark walls. There were few windows to look out of and even worse scenery. Still, as the days became weeks and the weeks became months, Draco came to appreciate the simplicity of the prison and its surroundings.

It was that same simplicity which allowed him the time to look within himself, to see who he was and how he'd become the man sitting in Azkaban today. It was not something he relished doing, but it was something he had avoided for too long. He could not ignore himself any longer. If it had been him to die and not Harry…he would have died unsatisfied with his life.

There were few things he was proud of in his younger years. His marks were always good during his schooling at Hogwarts, and that was about it. Otherwise, he hadn't done much good.

Crabbe and Goyle had stood by him throughout school. Draco still wasn't sure why, but for whatever reason they had remained his ever faithful lackeys for six full years at Hogwarts. Draco had not made an inquiry about them since leaving Hogwarts that night.

Before leaving school that year, he poisoned Katie Bell and Ron. While he had always loathed the two Gryffindors, Ron especially, death was not something he wanted on his conscience. For that reason, Draco would send up a silent thanks to Severus Snape every day of his life. His old mentor didn't have to do what had been assigned to Draco. Yet he had, and in doing so, he had ensured Draco's freedom. Even if Snape had lived, Draco never could have repaid him.

And so, Draco contented himself to serving a prison sentence for the crimes he committed as well as the one he did not. It was only fair to serve his sentence to save his soul, even if it meant hurting his mother one last time.

He had seen the despair in his mother's face at his trial. Draco had not wanted her to attend and had tried to talk her out of it, but Narcissa Malfoy would have none of it: she would be there.

It had nearly killed him to see the sadness weighing her down. Draco momentarily felt guilty for embracing the blame Dakotah had laid on him, because in doing so, he was hurting his mother yet again. He had never wanted to disappoint his mum.

Draco wasn't able to look at his mother for the rest of the trial and instead focused on the balcony where he noticed a slight figure sitting in the shadows. Instinctively, he knew it was Ginny, although he was not able to make out any distinguishing features. Knowing she was there was as bad as seeing the disappointment in his mother's icy blue eyes.

So many things had happened between them, none of which he had ever even considered, much less dreamed possible, that now it seemed like it was just that: a dream. _…A dream within a dream_, Draco considered, remembering the line from a Muggle poem he'd read long ago. Despite the passing of time, he never forgot the line.

It seemed to Draco that was all his life was to ever be: a moment of hope here or there but always ending in despair. Certain memories would stick with him forever, some lighting the darkness of his mind while others would serve as a reminder of why his fate was what it was.

Both the best and worst memories were the ones of Ginny for they plagued Draco night and day. Some were good and others were bad; all were bittersweet.

He had so many regrets for being only twenty-five, not the least of which was withholding his feelings from Ginny. He had done the same thing to Irene, Draco realized now. He had pushed his feelings for her out of his mind and in turn, lost them and her. He never could have loved the Italian woman the way she needed to be loved, Draco told himself.

With Ginny though, it was different. Draco comforted himself by acknowledging the fact that he was a fool to love her at all. He was an even bigger fool – maybe even a jackass – for not telling her at all.

Draco rubbed his cheeks wearily, loathing the feel of stubble beneath his palm. He'd never gone so long without shaving. He had never gone so long without a number of things.

_At least celibacy doesn't bother me_, he thought dryly. Then he thought about Ginny, naked and hot beneath him. _Too much anyway_.

Aside from Ginny, he hadn't slept with anyone in nearly two years. Oddly enough, it was not the thought of not sleeping with Ginny ever again that bothered him the most but the idea of never seeing her again.

That was one of the reasons he knew he loved her.

Loving Ginny was the most torturous thing he'd ever felt and he was inclined to hate her for it if it had not been for the fact that he felt so deeply for her.

There was a jingling then, coming from the corridor, signaling dinnertime. Draco hadn't made it two steps and the slot on the door opened while a plate of hot food slid through.

He had learned early on to eat whatever the guards pushed through that slot, no matter how unappetizing it looked. In any case, he hadn't gotten sick from it yet. He supposed that was a good sign.

Draco took the cup of broth to the corner of his cell and sat down on the floor as comfortably as he could. The floor, the rickety bed, it made no difference to him anymore.

He held the cup away from his body, outstretched toward the small window as if it was an offering of sorts, and perhaps it was just that: a small bowl of nourishment for his redemption. Draco wasn't foolish enough to believe such a trade would ever work, if only for a moment.

Admitting defeat would be admitting his own humanity, something Draco didn't relish in doing, but in this cold Azkaban cell, he was forced to. Taking an introspective look would take its toll on him in the next few years, making him tired but also appreciative of the life he had had, and the life he would have.

It was only a matter of time.

That night Draco left the bowl, still full of soup, beneath the small window, where the moonlight cast shadowy bars across it. He would leave it there until the guards came to take it away in the morning, when they brought breakfast. Until that time, he would not touch it, for even though he knew his meager offering wouldn't save his soul, deep inside he wanted to believe it just might. Someday.

* * *

_Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now,_

_Thus much let me avow—_

_You are not wrong to deem_

_That my days have been a dream;_

_Yet if hope has flown away_

_In a night, or in a day,_

_In a vision, or in none,_

_Is it therefore the less gone?_

_All that we see or seem_

_Is but a dream within a dream._

-- Edgar Allen Poe, "A Dream Within a Dream"

I would like to take the time to thank everyone who has read and reviewed this story. :) I am planning a sequel, called _Red Sky at Night_ that will further chronicle Ginny and Draco's relationship. I'm afraid it won't be up and published for a month or so, but please keep a look out for it. Thank you, once again!


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